31 Days of Mythological Creatures
by Punk-Out
Summary: A fun and exciting conglomeration of Puckurt fics including, but not limited to, an array of Fae, Griffons, Selkie, Ghosts, Unicorns, and The Four Horsemen. Beware the rating folks!
1. The Saytr and the Siren

**A/N: Hey all! I've decided to finally begin uploading my theme for the 31 Days of January on LJ. And since the entire doc. is 37 pages in total, I'm going to break them up. Some pieces have companion stories, which I'll post on the same chapter, and some are a tad shorter, so that will be the same. Most average about 1000 words, so they aren't too horrible a size. If you have any suggestions, please let me know! Enjoy~**

**Day the First: Satyr's, Siren's, and Sue, oh my!**

It was a normal day; sun was shining through the trees, animals and creatures moving about, beginning their days, and the soft crash of the sea provided a constant soundtrack to their lives. It was a normal day, and Puck was running for his life from an angry Sue Sylvester with a pitchfork. And since it was a normal day, he did what he normally did; made a beeline to dear "Porcelain's" cove and hoped like hell he was home because Sue liked him, no matter how hard she verbally bullied him, and there was no way she'd continue the attack in his territory.

And Puck kinda wanted to see him again.

"Hey Kurt! You back? 'Cause I could really use some help with the crazy lady," he yelled, sniggering at Sue's answering roar. Puck spied Kurt's thin, naked form curled into himself atop a small boulder just shy of the water.

"You shouldn't antagonize her like that Puck," Kurt said, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Eventually she'll get you back for it, and you won't like the outcome."

"Psh, like she could ever touch me," Puck scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the rock. His tail twitched and he looked closer at Kurt's body. Hunched shoulders, crossed ankles, knees drawn to his chest. Not good. "Hey, what's with the long face?"

Kurt looked vaguely surprised for a second before a weak smile formed on his lips. "You remember Blaine?"

"The hobbit?"

"Puck!" Kurt chastised, gently snacking his chest with the back of a hand, "be nice. He's not a hobbit, just... Vertically challenged."

"You mean he could pass as a dwarf-"

"_Any_way, well, I was bringing in a ship, because Brit and I have that competition going, and he was watching." Kurt's face dropped, eyes shifting to a navy blue when the sun slipped behind a cloud and the water darkened. Puck could hear Sue's rampage continuing in the background but his attention remained firmly on the siren. "Well, even though I got the entire crew to shore and wandering further inland, because I refuse to kill them, that's seriously not classy, he said I wasn't sexy. At all."

"Woah, woah, what? Back up, _you_ aren't sexy?" Puck raised a critical eyebrow and made a show of ogling Kurt. The blue-grey skin that made most look washed out actually suited him (mostly because when he came inland he found clothes that complimented it, but the impression stuck) and don't even get him started on those eyes. The way they shifted colour constantly with the sea was weird, but in a totally good way. And his body... "So not true. Dude's have literally fallen to their knees and begged to be with you."

"That was you Puck, and you were joking. Besides, it's not like he was mean about it, and I completely agree-"

Puck hauled Kurt off of the boulder, threw him over his shoulder and carried him towards the cave that Kurt resided in, as well as the big, soft bed he'd put together. Hooves clicked on rock and Kurt offered stuttered out token protests. "Babe, I'm not about to waste time explaining. I'm just gonna show you instead."

He was a Satyr. He could totally pull this off. "FYI, I totes wasn't joking."


	2. Chimera

**Day the Second: Chimera** **  
*****Kurt's a Tiger and Puck's a Marine Iguana

Hurt. Nothing registered but the pain that went so deep his bones ached. A scratchy, sickly whine tore from his aching throat and he vaguely wondered why it sounded more animal than man before his eyes rolled violently back into his head and nausea surged. He gagged but nothing came out. He didn't wonder about it. A muscle cramped and began to spasm and he passed out.

The next time he woke he felt different. Heavy and stuffy and brief memories of white rooms and injections of pain killers flashed in his head before he forgot them. He couldn't focus, but at least there wasn't any pain. He slept, something about conserving energy and figuring out where they were. He just wanted to sleep.

It was the light that woke him. The sensation of a hand pushing through his fur registered seconds later (fur? But that's not right...) and his first instinct was to attack, fear and hunger warring in his brain. His fingers tensed (not me, not me, not me) and his claws scratched on the metal table. A growl, one that shouldn't have possibly come from him but it _did_ and _oh god what have they done to him?_

"Calm down Mr. Hummel." The voice belongs to the white and black _thing_ hovering over him, it has to. It's all he has time to think before a sharp sting in his neck makes everything black.

When he wakes again, it's with one thought on his brain, '_Noah, Noah, Noah, Noah...'_

"No...ah." His eyes roll in their sockets, desperately looking for something (some_one_) that might not be there. The simpler, newer part of his mind mewls pitifully for mate, but he's determined to think boyfriend, and love, not... whatever mate means. If thoughts of loneliness and the companionship that could stop it follow, well, his eyes are tracking funny and he'd rather focus on that than the fact that he semi-understands whatever the hell has decided to join him in his brain.

It's true anyway, he can't focus as well and while one eye is normal, the other is a whole other perspective it seemed. The dilemma is forgotten though when he sees the twisted, naked form across the room. He knew who it was, he would've even without the spiked mohawk that there was something decidedly off about. His boyfriend was always big, but the massive forearms and clawed, scaly hands were out of the ordinary. But then, he had two voices in his head, so he probably wasn't any better off. A chill settled over his body and he decided that he definitely wasn't any better off.

He called out one more time. This time, Noah's eyes opened, slowly and painfully, eyelids fluttering. One eye Kurt recognized, could remember countless times when he'd met that intense gaze, but the other was foreign, orange with a large pupil. One by one, Kurt observed the changes. Silver, webbed hands that turned black and orange towards the elbows, black lips, a large spiked tail that swung lazily over the edge of the table. He realized what exactly it was about the mohawk that threw him off too. He remembered shaving it off in playful revenge after Noah flirted with that bartender to rile him up. There shouldn't be a strip of _anything_ down his skull.

The mohawk was made of long, individual black spikes and surrounded by smaller ones. Biting back sobs as the weight of what had been done to them finally clicked, Kurt struggled to lift his own arm. Black and orange striped fur sprouted from the elbow down, his fingers were joined from the second knuckle down by a flexible flap of black skin, and dangerous black claws replaced his perfectly manicured fingernails.

Noah smiled at him from across the room, teeth sharper and smaller than before. When he spoke, it was raspy and nearly incoherent. "Well baby, at least we match."


	3. Djinn

**Three: Djinn**

When Puck found that crappy antique brass lamp, he was about to toss it. Seriously, there was no redeeming features that a buyer would find interesting except for some words that were worn and faded so badly that he could barely read them. And even they were a stretch to meet the requirements of interest. Seriously, he'd picked up pieces with more value from garbage heaps (that wasn't saying a lot though; people really didn't know how much their possessions were worth. One mans garbage and all that junk). But Puck had always been impulsive and unable to control his curiosity, so he pulled his shirt sleeve over his hand and rubbed at the scoured surface, feeling the grooves of the foreign words.

He sure as fuck hadn't expected to be nearly choked by a giant ass cloud of smoke that stank like a particularly rank fart in the middle of his apartment.

"Dude, what the _fuck_? That's nasty!" Puck waved his hand frantically, scrambling to open a window before the smell could seep into the fabrics of his home. "Shit!"

"You know, your language could offend someone. Namely me." Puck whirled around, fists drawn up into a defensive position and ready to fight. The slender form lounging against the door frame threw him off guard.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded. Then he looked the guy up and down and scoffed. "And what the fuck are you wearing?"

Pale eyes lined with thick black make-up flicked down to his attire. See-through olive green pants trimmed with eggplant purple and gold patterns crawling along the seams covered shapely legs and a similar top bared the smooth abdomen. Brass bangles on his wrists clinked together when he moved and purple slippers paced silently on the floor. "This outfit is mandatory and I'm still better dressed than you. Sad."

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"You can call me Kurt, if you need a name," _Kurt_ interrupted smoothly. "Before you ask your next question, which will undoubtedly be, _'Why are you here,' _or, _'What do you want,'_ I'd like to clear up an issue. The smell was sulphur, it's all part of the job description and don't worry, it won't cling. After the initial bought it's unnecessary and I don't use it more than once. Ever. I'm here because you rubbed my lamp- _it's not that funny quite snickering_- and therefore, you get three wishes. Understand?"

"Uh, yeah," Puck replied. He dragged his eyes up and down Kurt's body, three thoughts popping into his head in quick succession. "Hey, so genies are, supposedly, kinda assholes, right?"

Kurt frowned. "I'm a Djinn, actually. A Marid to be specific. But yes, my kind are well known for their... mischievous and often cruel ways. Why do you ask?"

"I don't want my wishes fucked up because you haven't gotten any in what could be centuries, so here's the deal. I sex you up, my wishes go off without a hitch."

Puck didn't give Kurt time to protest, grabbing him around the waist and dragging him into the bedroom. That day, Noah Puckerman had the best sex of his life (that's saying a lot) with a _male_ mythological creature. He'd get his wishes all right, with no hidden surprises along the way. His last wish was that Kurt stay with him for the remainder of his life (Best. Sex. _Ever_. No joke, Kurt was some kind of fire spirit...if you think her mouth was hot when she went down on you after eating something spicy...), well...

"If you really think that you have to stoop so low as to _wish_ for my presence in your life then you sadly underestimate yourself. Save your wish for when you really need it; in the mean time, I'll be here."


	4. Vampire

**Four: Vampire  
A/N: Uuhhh, purely for laughs and mocks?**

Kurt used to picture this scenario a lot when he was younger. What with all the books like Twilight, or the televisions series' that he saw, there was no shortage of material to draw from for all those teenage fantasies. But he decided early on that if he ever met a vampire who wanted him as much as Edward supposedly wanted Bella, then he would never try to change them. Understand them, yes, love them even. But if he thought he could kid himself into believing that a killer, made or born, would change his ways, specifically for him, well, he might have to slap himself. Because even though everyone knew vampires were real, they had their instincts, just as much as any other predator in the world.

When he finally met the man of his dreams (no joke, Kurt saw him briefly in a nightclub and had the most intense sex dreams about him for weeks), he didn't care about whether or not he was a vampire. Most women he knew would sigh and moan about how they wished their boyfriends were, but Kurt didn't care. At first, Noah was mysterious about his past but as their relationship progressed he became more secretive and evasive. Finally Kurt put his foot down.

"Noah, I'm going to ask you a question. You'll answer me, truthfully, and I won't care about the answer," he said, arms crossed and a no-nonsense air about him. Noah frowned and ran a hand over his mohawk, fidgeting.

"If you won't care, why are you making me tell you?"

"Because you're being irrational about this!" Kurt sighed, frustrated. "Look, let's start over. I'll tell you something you want to know about me, then you reciprocate. Okay?"

"I can be down with that," Noah said slowly, plopping onto the couch. Kurt followed. "Where did you get that scar on your neck? The one that makes you flinch every time I touch it."

"During a dumpster dive in high school. One of my first, actually. They threw me in a little too close to the edge and there was a piece of rusty metal sticking out. Thank god I was up to date with my tetanus shots." Kurt faked a laugh then cleared his throat when Noah tensed, face contorting into a dangerously angry expression. Blunt was best, he decided, when it came to distractions. "Are you a vampire?"

The wrath melted off of Noah's face, leaving exhaustion. "Yeah. Not like you didn't already know."

"I didn't know," Kurt pointed out, scooting closer on the couch and grabbing Noah's hand, ignoring the way he tensed, "I suspected. There's a major difference. Why did you try to hide?"

"Because there was a chance that you'd get some stupid idea about how you had to change me. That I'm some kind of monster or some stupid shit like that, just like everyone else I've been with," Noah spat, hand twitching with the urge to curl into a fist. "I didn't want you seeing me in that light."

"Noah, do you love me?" Kurt demanded, turning his boyfriends head to look him in the eye.

"What? What does that-"

"Because I love you. Enough to spend the rest of eternity with you. I don't want to change you, you're perfect the way you are, with all your eccentricities and imperfections." Kurt rested his forehead against Noah's. "If you'll have me, I want to join you and experience life the way you do."

Noah's lips quirked into a grin, parting to reveal long canine teeth growing down from his gums. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and the powerfully muscled form pushed him onto the couch (and Noah sure was tanned for never getting any sun). "I hope you know what you just got yourself into Hummel, because from now until the end of our lives, you belong to me."


	5. Bigfoot

**Five: Bigfoot (crack!fic)**

It all started with No-Shave November and Noah's boss telling the boys that for every one of them who came into work unshaven all month, he'd donate fifty dollars a charity for children in need. Kurt knew the minute his boyfriend had come home that day that he would participate. Not only because of that quietly contemplative look on his face, but because Noah was a sucker for kids no matter what he tried to say and Kurt loved him for it.

And he did, just like Kurt knew he would. But Noah took his challenges seriously and considered No-Shave to include everywhere. All that wonderfully smooth manscaped skin was completely covered in thick black hair by the end of the month and Kurt silently mourned the loss. Though there was one time, after the first week and a half, that Kurt had to speak up ("It's no-_shave_ not no-_pluck_ Noah, now get over here!") because Noah was letting his eyebrows grow in and there was no way he was dating a uni-brow, no matter how sexy the rest of him was.

The problem came when, on November, 29nth Finn invited them to his house to break in the, "Totally awesome new hot tub I won from a draw at work dude!", refusing to let Kurt talk him into doing it a couple of days later.

Kurt may have understood and accepted Noah's (fantastically sweet and wonderfully thoughtful) reasoning for looking like a wild man, even with the annoying beard burn in awkward places, but Finn wasn't quite so kind about it...

"_Dude!_ What's with the _hair_?" Finn demanded when he opened the door. "I totally didn't even recognize you."

"Shut up man," Noah scoffed, elbowing past his best friend and walking into the small studio apartment that Finn had gotten his hands on quickly enough with the help of Burt and Carole. "I know I told you about it a couple of weeks ago, so don't even start."

"Yeah, you mentioned you were doing it, you just didn't say that you were a _beast_ dude." Kurt rolled his eyes and followed them inside, untying his shoes and placing them neatly in the door way.

"Finn, play nice. It's not Noah's fault that his hair grows freakishly fast," Kurt reprimanded, smiling and shrugging at Noah's look of betrayal. "It's true and you know it. Seriously your hair was two and a half inches at the beginning of the month and now it's eight, _and _you have a full, viking length beard. That's weird."

"Babe, you aren't supposed to side with your brother!" Noah whined, tugging at the long, curly ponytail at the base of his skull with one hand. The other stroked the wiry beard/moustache combo that dominated the entirety of his face from the nose down.

"I'm on no one's side but my own, love," Kurt said, slipping his hands into the mass of hair covering Noah's jaw planting a kiss on his barely exposed lips while Finn leaned against the wall and pretended to gag. "Now, enough chit-chat. I want to soak."

He barely had enough time to shimmy out of his pants before he heard Finn's yell of, "Holy shit! Dude! You're totally Bigfoot!", Noah's answering roar of anger, and their deafening footsteps as the chase commenced.

And if the neighbours pounded on their roof as he slipped into the steaming water, well, Kurt was too busy relaxing to bother. The boys would take care of the apologies when the time came. Kurt would make sure of that.


	6. Centaur

**Six: Centaur**

The first time he met Noah was after his first major fight with Blaine. He stormed out of Dalton and into the forest surrounding it, ignoring Blaine's calls and pleas to wait, to take a horse and ride home. But if nothing else, he was determined to walk home and give himself time to think even if it was a three day walk back to Lima. That was the plan, at any rate, and really he should know better by now. His plans never work out the way he wants them to, why should this one be any different?

Needless to say, he got thoroughly, pitifully lost within the first half a day. Instead of digging himself a bigger grave Kurt found a clearing and perched himself on a fallen tree, grimacing as the rough bark scraped against his pants. He crossed his arms and sighed, eyes darting about the trees.

It wasn't that he was scared as he waited in the darkening woods; no, no, he could take care of himself in a physical confrontation should the need arise. He was still annoyed with Blaine, and himself for secretly agreeing with him. He sat there, rolling the words, so condescending behind that deceptively gentle tone, and grew more and more restless.

"Oh come on Kurt," he said to himself severely. "Are you really going to let what a _boy_ thinks of you effect you so badly?"

"Well that really depends, doesn't it?" A voice whispered into his ear, hot breath warming his cheek. "Who's the boy and how insecure are you?"

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Kurt demanded, heart jumping as he threw himself off the improvised bench and whirled around, sai swords in hand. The muscular torso leaning through the bushes gave him pause. "Just who do you think you are?"

"No one special, just a random passerby with nothing better to do." Dark shoulders shrugged and he crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Well, actually, that's not true. I'm pretty fuckin' special. But you can call me Puck."

"You're not a fairy, are you?" Kurt asked with a sarcastic laugh, lowering his blades and leaning against a tree opposite of the bigger man. One eyebrow rose in response.

"Nooo," was the drawn out answer. "But the way you look, you could be mistaken for one. At first glance, anyway."

Kurt stared back, positive that there was an underlying insult to the almost compliment. "Uh-huh, well, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to get back to making a plan to get home."

"What got you lost?" Puck asked, watching Kurt walk back to his log and stare at it distastefully for a few seconds before sighing forlornly and carefully sitting down again. Kurt tried to glance back over his shoulder, thought better of straining his eyes and turned around to face him.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, most people know not to come into the forest unless they want to get whisked away by one of the creatures dickin' around in here with nothing to do. You either didn't know, or were too pissed off to think properly," Puck said, leaning closer to tweak Kurt's ear playfully. "And you, well, you're prime real estate for anyone looking for a little somethin-somethin, y'know?"

Kurt batted at the hand and rolled his eyes. "And are you one of them?"

Puck chuckled and his torso disappeared back into the bushes before he pushed through completely, arms crossed over his chest and a smug smirk on his lips. Kurt stared at the shiny dark coat of his muscled lower half. "That depends babe. Do you like your men to be hung like a horse? Cause let me tell ya, I am."

Kurt's eyes squeezed shut before they could wander over and see if Puck was exaggerating, repeating a mantra of, _'He's half-horse, he's half-horse, ignore how attractive his top half is because he's __**half-horse**_!'

That night was spent in the forest talking and blushing bright-as-can-be ("You're lighting up the forest with those cheeks.") at every sexual innuendo and comment Puck made and curling up in the centaurs arms when the temperature dropped after a measure of protest ("It's not just about you, y'know. I'm naked here; that means I'm cold too."). In the morning Puck offered to take him home ("Did you hear those wolves last night? Yeah, wasn't happening.").

The next time they met, Kurt had broken up with Blaine like Puck had recommended and allowed himself to accept his strange attraction to horse men (whether or not it was just Noah was as of yet undecided).


	7. Dragon

**Seven: Dragon**

This was what he loved about his life. When he was flying, a long, sleek body twisting gracefully through the air and riding the air currents, powerful wings spread and creating a blindingly beautiful picture as the sun glinted off his scales. Here the bullying from his fellow hatch-lings and the disappointed looks from his father ceased to plague him. Here there was nothing to hold him back, where he could best any who dared challenge him.

Here he was free to attract his mate.

His torso caught a current and he twirled to accommodate the shift. As his body turned, pale eyes locked onto bright hazel peering at him from behind the thick bushes of the forest surrounding their seaside cliff. Kurt flapped his wings sharply and hovered briefly before angling his body downwards and gently fluttering to the ground, his curiosity aroused.

He knew everyone in their pride, by looks and name either out of necessary caution or deliberate choosing, and no one had that distinctive inland colouring unless they were mated in. Brittany's mate Santana and Finn's mate Mercedes were the only two in Kurt's generation and this newcomer couldn't be much older. Everyone else in the pride was a variation of greys or blues.

Kurt himself was the only pure colour hatch-ling, as his mother had been before him.

Diving into the bushes ten feet to the newcomers left Kurt eased into the shift from his natural self to his humanoid form and hurriedly pulled on his clothes. It felt tight and contained and their communication would probably be stilted and filled with misunderstandings due to the differences between coastal speech and inland, but it was better to begin in his weaker form so his trump card remained firmly in his grasp should the situation turn sticky.

When he turned to confront the newcomer, he didn't expect to nearly bounce off of a muscular, naked chest. But he did. Truthfully, he couldn't really complain too much. It was a very nice chest after all. The owner of said chest smirked at him, arms around Kurt's waist to keep him from landing on his rear. Pulling away slightly Kurt glanced down and realized that it wasn't just the tanned upper torso that was displayed.

Kurt opened his mouth to stutter something (what that something might be, he wasn't entire sure yet), only to be cut off by soft lips covering his. Rough hands gently peeled away the layers of clothes and pulled him out onto the cliff, shifting into the bulky black form of an inland dragon. Kurt smiled and shifted as well, leaping off the ledge and shooting into the sky. Grace and the stifling need to impress his peers was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline that came from dancing through the air with your mate.

As the dark body spun circles around his longer frame they connected in a manner that only two of their kind could; mind to mind sharing memories, intent, and emotions. It may have been unexpected, but Kurt always knew he would find his mate while he was flying. And Noah more than met his requirements.


	8. Elves

**Eight: Elves (Puck: Drow, Kurt: human slave)  
A/N: Moving sucks. :(  
A/N 2: This is one of my favourites. :D**

Well, the female leaders of their worn down parody of a civilization might be cruel and unusual, especially when it came to the distribution of humans but at least the method was, in its own way, fair. After all, you can't exactly deny the one who just beat you within an inch of oblivion. How the combatants interpreted a fair fight, however, completely depended on the ones fighting.

Puck spat on Karofsky's prone form, kicking off the pale grey hand grasping weakly at his ankle. The knotted bruise smarting on his shoulder blade erased any pity he might've had for the cheap half-breed bastard. His hand shook around the sweat slicked handle of the axe that Karofsky had side smacked him with and Puck mustered up the strength to hurl it at the wall of the ring, sharp blade embedding into the stone. He turned at met his mothers pale gold eyes with his own, ignoring Shelby and Sue where they sat.

"I claim what's rightfully mine." Puck's voice rang out over the hum of the crowd and the masses hushed as he motioned at the white skinned human tied and perched on a squat stone stool between his mothers chair and his sisters. His split lip pulled painfully when his mother stood and grabbed the bound wrists, pulling the boy from his seat.

"And it shall be granted. Congratulations, my son. Take your spoils to do with as you will." His mother had a small body, thin and short, but she was deceptive in her stature. She drew the human into her arms and hoisted him over the balcony. If Puck couldn't catch him then all that he deserved was a corpse splattered on the hard dirt. The boy shrieked behind his cloth gag as he dropped and shivered in Puck's arms when he was caught. Puck could already see the purple bruises forming where his arms cushioned the fall and thought of how his own contusions would blend into the colour of his skin.

He didn't bother to thank the heads of council, turning on his heel and striding from the arena with purpose.

They made it back to his hastily constructed shack on the outskirts of their territory without delay. All the males who had competed for the prize were confined to their cots, though not by any other elf. The damage wrought by other fighters was enough to keep then out of the way for the foreseeable future and the ones who waited for the outcome like the vultures they were knew to give to champion at least a day before instigating another round of combat. If they didn't the council would bear down upon them full of righteous fury. If there was one thing the council hated, it was having their decisions speculated upon, and a challenge of ownership so soon would definitely be categorized under, 'questioning motives.'

It meant that Puck had a full day to acclimate to a foreign presence in his home, to decide if he wanted it there before he had to defend it.

He untied the ropes, calmly cataloguing all the injuries that had been acquired in the transition of custody between the council and himself. The bruises from where Puck had caught him, the rope burns from the initial struggle to test the limitations of his bonds, and the lacerations from his capture. The other prizes had been placed on their pedestals frozen with fright and as unharmed as the Drow would ever allow but this one, this one had fought and the scouts had come home worse off than him. He would fight the process and when he broke, he would be glorious, of that Puck was sure.

"What's you name?" His tone wasn't soft, wasn't kind. If this human was taken from him, his new owner would be harsh and vicious and until Puck assured his claim, so he would be as well, to prepare him for the worse.

There was silence, only for a handful of seconds, but enough time for Puck to ready himself for the use of physical force before a soft, high voice spoke. "Kurt." Wary blue eyes, so different from any he'd seen, stared at him and Puck realized that Kurt stood on the same level as he.

Shaking off his thoughts Puck took a deep breath to steady himself and unclasped his pants. The post-fight adrenaline remained with him, as did its effects. "Good, now get on your knees."


	9. Three Horsemen and one Horsewoman

**Nine: Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Pestilence: Rachel, Famine: Finn, War: Puck, Death: Kurt)  
****A/N: Shamelessly inspired by and mirroring a scene from "Sourcery" one of Terry Pratchett's Discworld series.**

"Dude, where the hell did Finn go?" Puck asked, hefting his axe back onto his shoulder when he sauntered out of the dingy bars bathroom. Rachel huffed as the last drunken idiot finally settled into the realization of what they were and why exactly they were gracing such a rundown disgusting ginmill with their presence (which, actually, was because Puck had to piss and Finn was hungry. Again). She settled delicately onto an uncomfortable wooden stool and waved in the direction of the kitchen. Puck could almost see the disease settling into the wood work where she sat.

"He's in the kitchen, no doubt gorging himself on the conglomeration of unhealthy and possibly rotted bar food," she said, shaking her head at the weighted scale that Finn had forgotten on the counter in his search for sustenance.

"Mhm," Puck hummed, dropping his axe to the ground with a loud, 'thunk!' and dropping onto the stool beside Rachel. "And Kurt?"

"I thought Kurt was with you," Rachel replied, big brown eyes blinking at him. "Noah, did you lose Kurt?"

"What? Why the hell do I have to keep tabs on him? He's _death_, he doesn't need a babysitter," Noah scoffed, rolling his eyes at Rachel's affronted expression.

"Too true Noah, thank you." Kurt came out of a backroom, arms laden with six bottles of the best alcohol to be found in such a rundown establishment and a smile on his lips. "If anything, I should be keeping an eye on you." When Puck straightened his back and narrowed his eyes Kurt dropped a kiss onto his forehead. "However, you've been good for the last century or so; I think by now that's unnecessary."

"Damn straight it is babe. That whole raping and plundering business? Better left to the humans." Puck swiped one of the bottles of moonshine out of Kurt's arms, carefully not to disturb the balancing act he had going on. "What's with the bottles babe?"

"I figured I'd grab a treat for the road before Finn got his hands all over it." Kurt smiled and handed Rachel a fruit liquor after laying the rest of the counter. "Goodness knows by the time this round is over we'll all need a bit of liquid relaxation. Humans are always the worst for Apocalypse etiquette. No respect for those of us who have to orchestrate the whole thing."

"Don't know why you're complaining," Puck said, taking a long swing from the bottle. "All you have to do is show up, take your gloves off and touch people. Seriously."

"Well that's a lot more than Rachel at least," Kurt huffed, ignoring Rachel's indignant squawk. "She only has to infect one person and it'll spread like wildfire. Thus is the power of her annoyance."

Puck snickered as Kurt rooted around behind the counter, pulling out a deck of cards with a triumphant grin. They both ignored Rachel's shrieking protests in favour of leaning over the bar for a slow kiss. Puck bit the lobe of Kurt's ear and whispered, "Think we have time for a quickie in the back? I saw some doors that led to promising places."

"I don't know," Kurt answered softly in between sucking a hickey high up on Puck's neck, "think we could distract Rachel and go for a round right here on the bar?"

"I can hear you!" Rachel yelped, jumping off of the stool and walking briskly towards the double swing doors. Puck chortled and pulled away from the massive bruise he was focusing on with one last bite.

"Easy enough," he murmured, pulling Kurt onto the sturdy wood and jumping on top of him. He slipped between Kurt's thighs and ground down, attacking the tilted lips. By the time Rachel timidly slipped back into the building they already had their pants undone and their shirts half off.

"Um, sorry to interrupt your forcibly acquired alone time, but there's something that you should see." Both of them groaned (and not in a good way) and Kurt pushed Puck off of his chest with a low growl.

"This had better be good Berry, or I'll cut out your heart and use that to infect the world in your stead," he hissed moodily, tugging his black shirt closed. Puck followed, muttering under his breath and dragging his axe across the floor with an ominous scratching noise.

"It wasn't enough that our awesome anniversary sex got cut because of the destruction of the human race, oh no, now our awesome post-anniversary make up sex got disrupted too. Fuck my eternal life."

"So what is it we're supposed to be seeing?" Kurt demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at Rachel (she knew Kurt wouldn't actually try to hurt her, futile as it would be. He'd just be a little...detached for a while) cleared her throat and pointed at the post that they had tied their horses to.

There was a conspicuous shortage of oddly coloured equids grazing on the abundant grass surrounding tether site. Kurt twitched, searching for the pale green mare he had called his own for over four centuries. Puck was in a similar state of discontent, already cursing and hastily retying his trousers.

"Those little fucks, I'm gonna kill 'em!" he raged, gripping the handle of his weapon tightly. Kurt pursed his lips and tried to think logically.

"Not only is Sue going to kill us for unwittingly botching her apocalypse, but someone _stole my horse!_" Kurt calmly pulled off the leather gloves finger by finger, exposing his skeletal left hand which clenched with deadly intent. Finn stumbled out of the doors, a mutton held in his teeth and a bottle of brandy in his hand. He stopped short at the anger on Kurt and Puck's faces.

"...What did I miss?"


	10. Gargoyle

**Ten: Gargoyle  
A/N: ****I... was totally going to go for an approach like the tv show Gargoyles, but I couldn't help but end it as is... Another loose interpretation. P:**

Kurt honestly wondered how his taste in men had gone so far downhill. Actually, scratch that, he'd always had bad taste in men. First Finn, who ended up insulting him, then Blaine, who had been fantastic for the first few months before cheating on him. Even Dave, who he thought had gotten over his internalized homophobia, had ended up flying into a rage when the subject of sex had been breached for the for time. After them it had been a string of losers who either ended up trying to change him in some form or another ("You're too stereotypical." "Can't you just shut up and eat the damn burger?") or turned to physical acts (a bruise on his collarbone from his heaviest textbook, a gash on his lower back from the corner of a coffee table), or both (getting called a cheating slut, arms straining behind his back).

Frankly, he was getting sick of it.

Garret, his newest boyfriend, lasted all of three months before hitting him, and Kurt might fall fast and hard but the men he dated only got one chance before Kurt got out of there. He learned his lesson with the first one. All the excuses and promises in the world wouldn't change them.

Shivering in the cold New York air Kurt climbed to the top of his apartment building. He'd been at Garret's apartment when the older man went off and threw a brass lamp at him for smiling at the waiter earlier in the evening. He probably should have seen it coming when Garret went quiet during dinner, but he wanted to think better of him. He'd seemed so nice when they first met at the University...

Shaking off those thoughts Kurt unlocked and pushed open the door leading to the roof. His landlady had given his a copy after she heard a fight about a year ago. He'd been in the early stages of a relationship with a cute mechanic (they say you dated in the image of your father...) who had gotten a little too handsy a week after they started seeing each other and wouldn't let up when Kurt said no. Rosy practically broke the door down before running Chad off with a cleaver stolen from the kitchen. It was his shortest relationship to date. She said the gargoyles made fantastic companions on bad days when she passed over the newly cut key the next day.

He found she was right.

They were ugly, true, and Kurt may be shallow when it came to clothing, but he would never judge someone for the way that they were born. It had happened to him enough that the instinct to choose anything based on beauty or interests were ground out of him at a very early age. Besides, gargoyles were constructed to act as protectors of their buildings and Kurt liked to think that the stone creature hanging over his apartment was his own personal guardian.

Kurt smiled and slid onto the ledge to sit beside his favourite (what? He never said he liked them equally...), brushing the snow off of the square head and wings. The permanent snarl on its face had become a comfort over the past few months. Leaning his cheek against the freezing stone he sighed.

"You know Noah, you're the best man in my life," he said softly, unconsciously stroking the curled claws, "right up there with my dad."

If he closed his eyes, Kurt could imagine the the heat he was feeling in his cheek was from a warm body beside him.


	11. Hellhounds

**Eleven: Hellhounds**

The problem with being a Hellhound was the boredom. Seriously, it was all well and fine going to Earth and dragging hapless humans to the underworld, but there were lots of them and limited jobs so they had a system of alternation. Go in pairs for jobs and have down time until the roster repeated. It was a fair system, but damn if it didn't make Puck long for the days of hardcore war and conflict when all of them flooded the battlegrounds en masse. Besides that, nowadays they weren't even allowed to tear anyone apart; they had to make appearances as omen now first before pulling their soul back.

Puck huffed and tapped his foot, contemplating his cards before he scoffed and threw them down. "Whatever dude, I fold. I'm out." Finn grinned at him from across the table. Puck stayed just long enough to watch him get his ass handed to him in poker by his partner Mercedes. Then he hightailed it back to Kurt, smirking at the prone figure sprawled naked on their shared bed, impeccably trimmed long haired tail wagging slowly.

Puck dropped his pants and crawled on top of his partner, gripping his erection and pushing it between pale cheeks.

"Mm, Noah, what time is it?" Kurt asked groggily, moaning quietly and pushing back into the familiar pressure. Puck grunted and canted his hips forwards, settling in when his hip bones rubbed against the swell of Kurt's ass.

"Evening. Just enough time for a round plus snuggles before dinner's up."

**Or, just because I can...**

Kurt sighed and checked his watch, determined that this time, after the next five minutes, he would get up and leave. This was four times too many that Puck had left him sitting in the cold waiting. Wrinkling his nose against the tingling he pulled out his phone and fired off one last text, fingers shaking with indignant anger and cold (and fear, and hurt, and tears). Puck had one last chance to do this right.

The bushes next to his park bench (as Kurt had come to think of it) rustled and Kurt jumped to his feet, startled. "Noah, I swear, if that's you..." Snow crunched underfoot and a soft growl reached his ears. Kurt took one careful step back, trying to think of how close he had parked before remembering that he had walked. "If this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny!"

A huff of air shook the leaves and Kurt thought he saw a flash of bright orange. He didn't wait for whatever it was to come to him; he turned on heel and bolted down the slippery walk, dropping his bag. His heart pounded, adrenaline and an abnormal fear clouding his mind. A howl sounded behind him and possibilities ran through his brain, so quickly he almost couldn't understand what he was thinking. They ranged from normal to outlandish (stray dog, _rabid_ dog, coyote, wolf, werewolf), but no matter the form, all he could imagine was wicked teeth around his neck as the beast drew near.

He slipped, taking a corner. Shivering, laying in the snow, Kurt tried to move, to crawl. Orange eyes glared down at him and black lips peeled back over sharp, stained canines. A ragged black coat covered a body so thin it was nearly skeletal. Half of one tall ear was missing. Kurt shuddered, drawing a breath, and the beast pounced.

The next morning, Burt Hummel was called by the police to identify his sons body. He almost couldn't.


	12. Krusnik

**Day ****Twelfth: Krusnik**

Noah Puckerman worked for the government. He never thought he would, but he made connections and pushed himself in the Academy, eventually getting into a unit specializing in the Protection of the Public against Vampires. They were the most active and prone-to-experimentation Secret Service unit in the military. It was also the group with the highest fatality rate.

At current his group was weeding out the location of a nearby Covenant near the outskirts of the city. It had been fine in the beginning, they were on the trail and about to bring in the big guns. They hadn't been informed of the Sire that resided in the cemetery half a mile from the old abandoned motel. Puck certainly hadn't expected to have the tables turned and most of his team wind up dead within ten minutes of their arrival and to have the mindless drones of the pack hunting for him.

The laser of a sniper shone into the bushes four feet to the left of him and before he could react a silent shot was fired. The body of a drone fell onto the ground, clotted blood leaking sluggishly out of the hole where her head used to be. A thin, black clad form dropped soundlessly from a nearby tree and walked over. Short white hair swayed in the cool night breeze and dark red eyes met his. Pale fingers gripped a com in one hand and his gun in the other.

"Agent Puckerman has been recovered. Location of the Sire has been identified. Moving into the Covenant to begin extermination." The voice was soft, high, and familiar to him, though Puck couldn't exactly place it. Actually, he looked familiar too, now that Puck thought about it, but still nothing jumped immediately to mind. The voice that came out of the com, though, Puck recognized instantly.

"Very well Porcelain. Engage the target. I want that bastards head on a spike." Well, Sue Sylvester would never change it seemed. And that nickname.

"Kurt?"

Red eyes (that's so _wrong_) turned to him and the blank look on his gleemates face shifted into something softer, more understanding. "At current, agent Puckerman, you'll call me Krusnik 03. When this raid is over, we'll talk."

"Porcelain! Get your expensive ass moving! We didn't spend millions of dollars on your research-slash-installation for you to dawdle."

Kurt's eyes flicked upward as he spoke into the com. "Understood Commander."

A drone dropped off of its perch in the higher branches and moved to attack, screeching incoherently as he swiped three inch claws. Kurt ducked, placing his gun on the ground before coming back up. He grabbed both of the vampires wrists, turned them up and then kicked the left elbow, snapping it neatly. He dropped the unnaturally bent arm and slid his hand onto the other, pushing up until it did the same.

Pained, outraged shrieks echoed through the night as the drone tried to swing its dangling arms for a hit and simultaneously bite Kurt. Before it could make contact Kurt's lips parted and long, sharp canines sank into the vampires neck. When he looked back to Puck, his eyes were brighter, glowing in the dark.

"Agent Puckerman, please make your way back to base. There is a unit awaiting your arrival. Please do so quickly." Kurt re-shouldered his gun and turned his back to Puck.

"Wait!" Puck's hands grabbed the first thing they could get a hold on (Kurt's hips and Puck really wasn't thinking about that right now) to stop the other man from walking away. "Dude, that's the whole Covenant in there. You sure you don't need backup?"

Kurt didn't answer, choosing instead to lean over and press a chaste kiss to Puck's lips. He pulled away with a soft smack and moved to whisper in Puck's ear-

"Quite your whinging and get your ass back to base Puckerman! And you, Porcelain, have a job to finish. If I hear you swapping spit with that mouth breather over com again I'll skin you and use your hides as leather gloves and a fur rug. I'll leave it to you to guess which of you will be serving what purpose."

Kurt laughed quietly. "Don't worry about me Noah. I'll be back."


	13. Gorgon

**Thirteen: Medusa/Gorgon  
****A/N: This is partially inspired by a song in choir we're singing that's fantastically dissonant called, "Medusa." But not overly.**

Puck had heard of this place from the other knights. Tales mostly, and rumours of the boy that lived there, isolated by everyone because he was evil. One of his friends from training and his mother had disappeared shortly after their return from visiting relatives in a city near the monsters residence. Puck hadn't heard the full story, but then he figured no one else had either and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

The journey itself didn't take long, only a three day ride at a lazy pace (his horse was a temperamental bastard, what could he say?) before he came upon the mouth of the cave. It was oddly shaped, long and squat in the mountainside and nearly covered by bushes, trees and a crawling ivy that grew up the rock. Puck had to duck down to get inside. The immediate interior of the cave remained low and long for as far as he could see and Puck had to wonder just how short the Gorgon was as he shuffled down the stretch. After tripping four times he moved to the side, running one hand along the wall and the other along the roof. He continued on for ten minutes before he grew suspicious over the accuracy of his information.

Naturally, as soon as he began to second guess himself the tunnel widened upwards as the ground sloped downwards. Some ways down there was a thin line of light that reminded Puck of a window at night with the drapes drawn. As he moved down he realized that that was exactly what it was. Someone had built a wooden wall with windows and a door across the space and the warm golden light of a lit lantern spilled out from under the cloth curtains.

Puck cleared his throat (if anyone asked, he was so not nervous) and crept closer, leather boots scraping on the ground. He had just lifted his hand to knock when the door swung open to reveal a boy his height. His eyes were covered by a black blindfold and he had a matching cap pulled over his hair.

"Hello?" he asked softly, a frown settling on his face. When Puck attempted to speak, the words caught in his throat. He coughed and tried again.

"Uh, hi," he started awkwardly, unsure of how to talk to the other, "my name's Puck. I'm looking for a friend of mine."

"People don't come here just to look for a friend of theirs," he answered, cocking his hip to the side and settling a hand on it. A deep voice called from inside, asking 'Kurt' if everything was okay. Kurt leaned back a bit, holding onto the door frame and confirming that everything was fine before turning back to Puck. "So who are you then?"

"I told you, my name's Puck. I'm looking for my friend Finn and his mother. Have you seen them?" Puck's hand tightened over the pommel of his sword and twisted as he resisted the urge to attack before the fabled monster could.

"Finn?" Thin eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you looking for Finn? No one's enquired after them yet and they said no one would. So why are you?"

"Look, I told you I'm his friend. There were rumours after they disappeared and I wanted to check out if they were true," Puck replied. He clenched his teeth so he didn't do anything he'd regret. A blindfold may have been drawn over Kurt's eyes but Puck still felt scrutinized. After a moment of contemplation Kurt stepped back and motioned Puck inside.

"Fine. But if you try anything don't think I won't hesitate." Puck grunted an affirmative and made a show of adjusting the hilt of his sword to an angle that would make it difficult to grab. When he saw Finn and Carole at a small round table, Carole holding hands with a bald man wearing a blindfold similar to Kurt's, he nearly cried out in relief (except he's a badass, so you know, not). Kurt removed his hat and sat down at the table after pulling an extra chair up and offering it to Puck. Finn turned and grinned around a mouthful of food.

"Dude!"

Puck smirked and dropped onto the chair. "Sup?"

That night, seated around a small round table next to a warm fire, Puck learned how Kurt Hummel founds the Hudson's in the forest, being attacked by a local gang of bandits and saved them. He brought them to the Hummel home and him and his father Burt fixed their wreaked carriage. During their short stay, Burt and Carole hit it off and the remainder of the Hudson clan decided to move in. He learned about Kurt's youth, the reason for the cloth over their eyes, and where the multitude of stone animals came from and in exchange shared stories of his and Finn's antics as children and knights in training.

It turned out the lonely monster living in a cave was an interesting (and... kinda hot) boy with a family, forest-dwelling friends, and a slightly worrying love of snakes (seriously, _everywhere_).


	14. Troll

**Fourteen: Troll  
**_**A/N: Trolololo  
**__**A/N 2: This was also inspired by Terry Pratchett..  
**__**A/N 3: Trolls aren't actually afraid of fire. They're afraid of lightening, according to Scandinavian lore. I'm exercising my creative licence... **_

Kurt didn't know where the day had gone wrong. Honestly, all he wanted to do was get into town and buy some of the silk he'd seen the merchants bringing in before everyone else snatched all the good bolts. Was that too much to ask? He didn't think so, but apparently what he thought didn't matter.

Being the son of a world-famous barbarian kind of sucked like that. Everyone expected him to be just like his father. Kurt loved his father, don't get him wrong, but he most certainly did not appreciate the stifled creativity he constantly suffered from.

At any rate, here he was, sitting in the middle of the forest, relying on the skills his father had taught him when he was still young enough to eagerly soak up anything he wanted to teach his son, after being forcibly involved in a long winded game of, 'Let's char the hobbit and his equally-as-small female companion for busting our eardrums with their annoying duet' (the Mage trying to burn them literally stood and explained it to Kurt, which is how Blaine and Rachel made their escape). Needless to say, it didn't work and only really served to make Kurt unforgivably late. Not only was his father going to needlessly worry, which wasn't good for his heart, but all the good bolts of fabric were going to be gone by the time he got into the city.

At least he was still able to moisturize, even if the scent of camp fire was sinking into the fabric of his shirt and wouldn't likely come out for weeks.

Sighing softly Kurt glanced around the clearing he'd made himself camp in. Not too far off there was a mountain that his father said was home to a family of trolls and the forest surrounded the slope of the base at least three miles out in each direction. Kurt was roughly a mile and a half away, just far enough that the hill was angled comfortably. The trees here were an eclectic mixture of deciduous and coniferous, with a mixture of thick underbrush usually found North and exotic ferns. Ivy crawled up the large rock he was using as a windbreaker.

Kurt thought that the underlying layer of magic from people burying magical artifacts and forgetting them for a few odd hundred years was responsible for that.

He didn't notice the broad form approaching on silent feet from the East until he caught sight of a shadow where shadows had no place being. He slipped a surreptitious hand behind his back and fingered the hilt of the sai sword strapped to his thigh. "Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Not half bad for a human. Most wouldn't have noticed me until I was already cutting them." Kurt was honestly a little surprised at the size of the troll that stepped out of the bushes. The green-ish grey colour of the skin and the small cone shaped horns were nothing new, but the trolls Kurt had seen must have been closer to twice the size of the one standing before him.

"Mm, well, most humans are idiots who couldn't see five feet beyond their own noses if their lives depended on it," Kurt replied with a small, sarcastic smile. "And it very usually does, which is why the population is declining."

"And here you are, seeing ten feet to the right of your nose." The troll laughed and sauntered further into the clearing. "Let me guess, mother's a barbarian and she taught you the ropes?"

"Close," Kurt said, sarcasm sliding into a more placid mirth. "Father is. You haven't told me your name yet."

"Can't get them all I guess. Clothes threw me off." He leaned against the rock, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his dark beige trousers, the loose fabric bunching at the front. "And you never told me yours. That's bad manners."

"Well I did ask first, but my name's Kurt." Kurt stood but stayed on his side of the fire. Trolls weren't exactly known for their affable attitude towards humans but this one hadn't tried to rush him yet. Granted, that could have something to do with the fire in between them, but Kurt would much rather prefer to believe that he was conversing with one of the few polite ones.

"Puck." Hazel eyes watched him closely before a grin broke out onto his face, revealing small, pointy teeth. "You gonna take your hand off your weapon?"

"That depends," Kurt replied. "Are you going to try to attack me?"

Puck chuckled and shook his head. "Only if you try first. My sense of self-preservation is only so small, you see. Arming yourself I understand. Throwing the knife you're holding 'just in case' at me and claiming you slipped? Not so much."

"I... don't know if I want to hear that story," Kurt said carefully, sliding his hands up to rest on his waist instead of his hips. Puck snorted and moved further into the clearing, deliberately leaning against the trunk of a massive willow.

"No, that's definitely a story for another day." Kurt was tempted to raise an intrigued eyebrow but refrained, instead turning their conversation to something a little more neutral.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked shuffling closer and perching on a small flat rock. At Puck's questioning expression he expounded. "You were coming here specifically, correct? Or else you would have either assaulted me or continued on your way."

"Maybe I was just impressed by the way you spotted me and wanted to talk."

"Trolls don't sit for a chat just because you caught them skulking around," Kurt stated, pointedly ignoring the muttered, "I don't skulk." "So what were you doing?"

Puck nodded at the stone he'd just moved away from. "My dad. Dumb ass stayed out too early and petrified."

"I see. So if you stayed out until daybreak, would half of you ossify? Seeing as you're only half troll." Kurt carefully watched for a reaction.

"How'd you know that?" Puck asked, clearly intrigued. He pushed away from the willow and walked forward. "Not many people get it so soon."

"For one you're smaller than the average troll, which could be chalked up to unfortunate genetics, but you're also smarter and your innate dislike for humans isn't quite as strong." Kurt smiled and slipped off the rock, slowly walking to meet Puck halfway. He cocked his head and Puck lowered his, brushing his nose against Kurt's cheek. Before he could reach his goal Kurt pulled away and sat back on his rock. "Sorry, but I don't kiss strangers."

Puck snorted, grinned, and shrugged, dropping to the ground where he stood. "Well then, I guess we're just gonna have to get to know each other."


	15. Phoenix

**Fifteen: Phoenix**

Puck met the real Kurt during a morning jog through the forest that had taken longer than he had anticipated it would. The trail he'd chosen on the map looked shorter, less bendy. He swore that some of the lines overlapped and that was the reason he'd read them wrong. He was perfectly competent with directions. He only realized how hopelessly lost he was when he found his way to a river that hadn't even been anywhere near the path he was supposed to be following.

"The fuck man?" Letting out a frustrated yell Puck kicked a rock into the trees. When he heard a responding yelp he froze. When Kurt Hummel stumbled out of the bushes rubbing his left thigh, all he felt was disbelief.

"What the hell Puck?" Kurt demanded when he saw him. "Issues much?"

Snapping out of his reverie Puck rushed forward. "Shit, sorry man! I didn't know anyone was out here." Puck looked at what Kurt was wearing (tight red pants, black and gold shirt, dark yellow scarf, black boots) and grinned. "You jog in full gear?"

"Please," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes, "of course not. I wasn't out here to jog."

"Then what're you doing?"

"I was looking for something." Kurt looked at him and raised a sceptical brow. "And you? Did you happen to stray off the path? You realize there are wolves out here, right?"

"Like you're one to talk Hummel. At least I can run in these clothes, you'd tear something." Kurt was about to reply (no doubt something horribly scathing and belittling) when a loud shriek tore through the relative silence of the forest. Kurt gasped and the air around them shimmered with heat. Puck stared. "Dude, what the hell?"

Kurt cleared his throat awkwardly and blushed, trying to stealthily brush something away from the backs of his knees. "Nothing. Come on, let's get out of here before something gets us."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the big bad woods Kurt," Puck teased, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jogging shorts (and was Kurt looking at his junk? How interesting...).

"The woods, not at all, they're actually quite pleasant once you get around the extensive and sometimes over dramatic groaning" Kurt answered tersely, leading them out onto a dirt road where his Navigator was parked. "It's the other things I'm not so fond of meeting face to face."

"...Dude, you talk to trees?"

After that, Puck came around to the Hudmel household a lot more, not only to see Finn but to hang around Kurt (well, not just hang around. Those tight jeans did wonders for his ass). As the months passed, they got closer and closer until finally Puck was able to convince Kurt to go on a date with him. They ended up at a pond eating some cheap takeout while Kurt taught Puck how to listen to the trees. Puck didn't drive Kurt home until the sun was beginning to rise and Burt called, demanding where the hell they were and why Kurt hadn't been home by eleven like he'd said. They spent the whole night wrapped around each other under a blanket, watching the stars and whispering. It was a Sunday night, and immediately the next morning they went to their respective homes and got themselves ready to face the day.

Later that day, Kurt was shot in the chest by a pissed off tech geek that Puck used to dumpster toss. Out of six shot, he was the only one who died, even if it was only for a few moments (according to the paramedics it was shock that caused his heart to stop, but Puck was there, Kurt had a hole through his heart, there was no way he should've been alive at all). All the others were jocks, boys who'd bullied the kid just as bad as Puck did. Kurt stepping in front of him and took a slug in the chest to save his life.

The doctors hailed Kurt's quick recovery as a miracle.

Burt had to pull a heartbroken Puck to the side after Kurt slapped him across the face and told him to get out, to explain the situation. That Kurt's mother had died, yes, but her kind always bounced back from death. The time in between deaths, however, was lost on them when they were reborn. That Elizabeth had left, that she flew away carefree, not remembering her son or her husband. That every time Kurt was killed, by accident or man, he would forget and regress back to the mental state and memories of his last death. That Puck would be forgotten again and again. That it was how the Phoenix dealt with immortality.

He had to deal with the fact that he, Noah Puckerman, had killed Kurt Hummel after throwing him in a dumpster with broken glass that had cut Kurt's throat. That he caused Kurt's first death and that every time he died after that, they would have to start over.

But Puck would be damned if he ever gave up.


	16. Selkie

**Sixteen: Selkie  
****A/N: Irish!Puck? Yes, oh yes...**

Kurt hated to admit his intense dislike for his husbands occupation but he would (after a concentrated effort at wheedling). Why on Earth did they have to move to Ireland just for fishing? Not only that, but an island. Everyone's accents were so thick that Kurt could barely understand anyone and he lived in an English speaking country! That said, he could barely understand anyone when he went home either, but that was mostly the unfortunate stupidity of the general populace mixed with the horrible grammar they seemed to insist on.

The accents weren't even sexy anymore.

In the months following the move Kurt learned the very definition of sexual frustration (he was already well versed on loneliness). His husband would spend weeks away on trips, then claim exhaustion when he was home and disappear on casual fishing trips with his friends before going off to work again. Besides the massive lack of companionship, Kurt had never eaten so much fish in his life, but every time he brought up the subject, it was changed quickly and firmly. It got to the point where he ate beef and chicken at the only little restaurant on the island and the only pleasure he got other than his hand was the waves splashing against his hips.

One day, after months of suffering through their cycle, all of his tension built to the point where he began inexplicably crying on the beach. He never expected to be waylaid on his way home by a (holyshitsexonlegs) stranger and pulled along the beach to hide behind an outcrop of rocks. Insistent lips found his and he was pushed against the jagged rock. The stress and frustration that hadn't been released with his tears relaxed and without thinking he allowed himself to be satisfied by this stranger.

After they had finished and lay entwined together, the waves washing their legs and hips free of sweat and sand, Kurt whispered his questions into the tanned chest, listening carefully to the muttered answers. Kurt listened to Noah and thought that he'd have to verify the information himself before calling him again.

Three months later he caught his husband pushing a small fishing boat out to sea, impatiently kissing a woman as they set out. Their divorce was finalized not even a week later. Kurt stayed in Ireland and kept the cottage for himself. Every time he went to the beach he brought a small knife with him. It was just enough to inspire the seven tears he needed to see Noah. Eventually, Noah handed him a folded seal skin and told him to hide it very carefully, where no one, especially him, would find it.

Kurt kept Noah's Selkie skin buried in the backyard and grew a vegetable garden over it. After a year together, Noah proposed, and after two they adopted a six year old daughter, small and pale with dark brown hair and big hazel eyes. A year after Beth came Leon, a shy, freckled redhead who was a bundle of energy once he opened up, and Mary his twin, who loved to tend the garden with him while her brother and sister played in the waves with Noah. Two years after the twins brought Cordelia, a prim and proper little blonde girl with blue eyes like Kurt's. When Leon began to whine about being outnumbered by female siblings, Kurt and Noah talked it over and adopted their final child, a five year old boy, Keith, who looked like Noah's tiny clone.

Kurt never felt lonely again, not when he had a husband who chose Kurt over home and children who loved them both.


	17. Shapeshifter

**Seventeen: Shapeshifter  
****A/N: Yaaay, finally something darker! :D Totally based on Supernatural. **

It wasn't Noah. Kurt repeated the thought in his head like a mantra. This isn't Noah, Noah wouldn't do this to him. Blow after blow rained down on him. Angry words were spat in his husbands voice, accentuated by the crack of Kurt's forearm breaking. Slut, whore, bitch. But it was okay, because it wasn't Noah. The bat was dropped and Kurt's head lolled, hazy eyes staring at the parody of his spouse. The tan face was flushed red from anger and exertion and the veins in his neck and temple were bulging. They did that when he was angry...

The day had started out like normal. Kurt woke up early to the scent of fresh coffee being brewed and stumbled into the shower. Noah was up, dressed and ready for work. Often he would joke about Kurt's complete dependance on caffeine and how he was useless without it, but that never stopped him from waking up half an hour earlier than he needed to, just to make a pot. Kurt loved that about him.

They spent the extra ten minutes their routine afforded them pressed against the door making out. Kurt supposed they were more sexually active than most couples, but then again, he wouldn't know. It's not like he went around asking Finn and Mercedes how many times they had sex in a week (for them? Probably four or five times due to time constraints. Seven or eight if Noah was being ambitious over the weekend). Noah would always sneak in one last kiss, one last squeeze, before running out the door with a wink and a promise.

Today Noah had run back into the house after twenty minutes. Kurt thought that he'd gotten too riled up this morning and called in sick. It was perfect; it was a school holiday so he didn't have a class of thirty six-year-old's to mold and Noah wouldn't be missed at the office for one day. They could take a long weekend together. They didn't even make it back to the bedroom. Kurt was bent over the table with no preamble, pants off and neck practically being mauled. It was a little rougher than he was used to, but that was okay; he knew Noah got a little enthusiastic, and to be completely truthful, Kurt liked it on occasion. So long as he could sit properly and cover whatever marks were left by the time Monday rolled around, he was fine. But they didn't have anywhere to be all weekend.

It was after they had finished that Kurt noticed something was off about his husband. When Noah smacked him and tied him to a kitchen chair, that's when he knew it wasn't Noah. After the bat came out, and the angry slurs against his fidelity, he was secure in his knowledge. But that meant he'd just cheated on his husband. That was his last coherent thought before the bat cracked against his cheekbone and another sick crunch filled his ears. The pitiful mimicry of Noah whispered into his ear, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

After that he brought out the knife.

Kurt didn't know exactly how long he was tied to the chair, getting cut up by some psycho wearing his husbands face (and if he could think properly, he would realize how nauseous that made him), vaguely wondering where Noah was, if he'd gotten to work safely or if he was trapped somewhere. His shirt was torn open and the sharp tip of the blade was dragged across his chest, the exact path that Noah had kissed the night before when they should've been sleeping. When that drew no reaction the knife was dug between his ribs, not deep enough to damage anything and wow, Kurt never thought that those in depth first aid courses would ever really be used, he was a grade school teacher for fuck's sake.

"I said; what do you have to say for yourself?" It was repeated, slow and deliberate, the way that Noah spoke when he was angry, voice tight and breathing forcibly kept tight and controlled. Kurt's eyelids fluttered open (when had he closed them? He couldn't remember and that really wasn't good was it?) and he stared into cold hazel eyes (not Noah, not Noah).

Speaking made his face burn and ache, but he said it anyway, muttering as loud and clear as he was able, which wasn't very. The same two words, over and over again. "Not Noah, not Noah, not Noah."

The imposter (intruder, trespasser, _wrong_) didn't say anything else, didn't do anything else. A bullet took him down. He collapsed onto Kurt and stayed there, slouching, and slowly the weight of his own body took him to the ground. The knife returned, but this time to cut away his cloth bonds (they were going to have to replace all of their kitchen hand towels...) and suddenly, Noah, _his Noah_, was there, talking frantically and pressing worried, assessing hands over his face and torso. And all Kurt could do was mumble half-lucid sentences of, "I knew it wasn't you, I love you, it wasn't you, you're okay-" as Noah yelled at the police who had fired the shot, pointing at the dead body that looked just like him.

But it wasn't, and they would be okay, the blood stains would come out of the walls with a bit of bleach. Kurt would make sure of it.

As the ambulance arrived on scene and hooked him to machines, Noah held his hand and rocked in his seat, whispering, "My fault, this is my fault." Kurt tried to squeeze his hand, but could only manage to rub one finger along the back of Noah's hand. Hazel eyes, his hazel eyes, looked into blue and Kurt tried to smile. The break in his cheekbone was fresh though, and he was coming down from an adrenaline high. He passed out from the shock of white pain, listening to his husband blame himself.


	18. Treefolk and Fae

**Eighteen: Treefolk and Faeries  
****A/N: Kurt's a Mountain Ash, Puck's a Hobgoblin, only not ugly.**

Puck remembered the oddly silky texture of Kurt's hair. The Rowan treefolk was old, much older than he looked, and well beloved by the faeries that visited him. He wasn't the tallest of his species, just a small, humble shrub whose roots crawled from the ground and made an intricate design with the mushrooms surrounding it. Puck spent many long years with him, making delicate necklaces out of stray, flimsy branches and bushels of berries that had fallen and watching him guide lost humans from the woods before the Fae could whisk them away. Puck often enquired as to why Kurt helped; he answered, playfully, that not everyone felt the urge to toy needlessly with others.

Puck had just about gotten used to his attraction enough to act on it. Had planned, in fact, to approach Kurt about furthering their intimacy. It had formulated while he was watching Kurt interact with a human child who had strayed from the cement path, which was common enough with the Stray Sod that lingered a few feet off the path. She was an ugly little thing in Puck's opinion, but Kurt handled her with such care that Puck thought he might like to learn how to do that. He barely got up enough courage that night to press a chaste kiss to Kurt's lips before retreating back to his hollow some half a mile off. When he returned the next morning, heart pounding from nervous excitement, a mess of upturned grass and dirt met his view and Kurt's bush had been cut. Desecrated.

Berries were squashed into the ground, juices staining the dirt like blood and the small white flowers, the ones that Kurt shared his complexion with, were pulled apart. Branches littered the area, cruelly torn away from their trunk. Leaves were much the same, thrown carelessly about. Anger sizzled through him; the spirit which made this plant sentient was gone. It was in his nature to single out rude, greedy humans and play minor jokes that Kurt would shake his head at, but this- who could do this to such a caring and protective creature?

Those ugly bastards would pay with their lives, Puck would make sure. There were plenty of Fae who would be willing to help, who loved Kurt, though not as he did. They would dance until they were driven to madness, then handed over to the lone Manticora that lived a few miles South. Surely she would enjoy a good sized meal. Perhaps he could even persuade her to eat them slowly. Or perhaps his goblin cousins would enjoy picking one off. They ate like rats, chunk by tiny chunk...

Yes, these humans would pay for what they did, and Puck knew exactly how to go about hunting them down...


	19. Changeling

**Nineteen: Changeling**

There was something wrong with Sarah. He'd known it from the moment he'd walked into her nursery because she was shrieking about the necklace Ma had given her with the iron Star of David on it. As they grew together, he noticed that there were other things too. How she would speak in riddles and song, her hair grew stupid quick, something that their Ma was so happy about, and she was the pickiest, healthiest eater he had ever seen.

It didn't help that she would randomly start bawling for no good reason and he took the heat for that.

He didn't believe in things like Faeries until he heard a story from a guy that sounded a lot like his little sister. When Sarah's skin took on a greenish grey tinge that had Ma freaking out, he put down his foot and started his research. He didn't like what he'd found, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to go out and buy an iron poker anyhow, just in case it came in handy.

It did. Turns out the iron melted the glamour that the elf parading as his little sister was using and he got her to lead him to... where ever Sarah, his Sarah, was being held.

They were beautiful, all of them, unearthly and dangerous. Puck looked around and locked eyes with the tiny girl that was his sister, staring back of him with large hazel eyes. When Puck spoke, it was loud and clear and his focus remained on his Sarah.

"I want my sister back."

If he thought the others were beautiful, then the elf who stepped up behind Sarah was ethereal. Short brown hair, vivid eyes that seemed to shift from blue to grey to green as Puck watched, pale skin, so white it looked translucent, and a slender body decked out in tight clothes.

"You want your sister back," he spoke softly, passing an affectionate hand over wild browns curls while the others looked on with a shade of what Puck thought looked like disdain. "And I want mine. Sarah is unhurt, but the stench of iron makes Saril sick. Give her to me and I shall return yours."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Puck demanded, ignoring Saril's frightened squeaks as the iron prod swayed closer to her skin. "You're never supposed to trust a Fae."

Long fingers slid under Sarah's armpits and he lifted her in his arms. He passed over the clearing with four easy strides and, pressing a tender kiss to Sarah's cheek, he lowered her to the ground. "She's yours, now give me mine."

Puck grabbed Sarah and hoisted her onto his hip, holding her close and ready to lash out with the poker should he spot any suspicious movements. Backing away slowly Puck ensured that there was a decent amount of space between him and the elves. As he turned to run home he missed the elf he'd spoken to stopping his brethren from following with a wave of his arm.

"There will be others," he said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Saril's shoulder where she clung to his leg. "Let this one go. Such bravery must be rewarded to continue."

"You are intrigued by him," Saril whispered, low enough that the others wouldn't hear. "You... like him."

"Yes my child," Kurt replied, tugging her arms loose and kneeling. "He is one of the few humans who is worthy of our attention and care. I have watched you grow with him, watched his protective nature take form for a girl he never truly met and keep you from harms way even through his distrust. He will make a fine addition to our family. Him and Sarah both."

"He will not leave his mother," Saril stated with a pout. Kurt smiled down at her and brushed away a stray hair. He nodded towards Burt, Carole and Finn and then to Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany.

"Then we take all three. If one will not come without the others, then you improvise. Correct?" Saril giggled and danced away. Kurt would follow in his fathers footsteps and take what he wanted. Those humans would be his, all three, fine additions to their family.


	20. Ghosts I and II

**Twenty: Ghost**

Kurt knew he wasn't normal, and not just because he was gay. He didn't know why he had the abilities that he did, why he could see things and others couldn't. He suspected latent cognition from his fathers side. After all, Burt Hummel exercised an amazing amount of empathy for such a stoic man, far too much to be normal. His late wife had always said as such, and so did his new one.

Granted, said late wife still whispered into his ear unnoticed.

Kurt always allowed his father to believe that they kept Elizabeth Hummel's old dresser because it comforted Kurt. And it did, of course, because without it, he wouldn't get to see his mother at all, instead of as a translucent figure wandering around the house and welcoming him home with a wide smile. She appeared much clearer in his dreams than she did while he was awake so he welcomed her in his sleep.

At least, he did until they moved into the new house with Finn and Carole. Awkward conversations would have ensued should she have appeared in sleep during their first night there.

Kurt had noticed the form lounging against the wall as they moved in. He'd have to have been blind not to. But since the boy (man? He didn't look that old) made no move, malicious or otherwise, Kurt pushed him from his thoughts and concentrated on moving the antique dresser upstairs safely.

That night his dreams were invaded by an infuriatingly attractive smirk and a soft, persuasive voice whispering in his ear. When he woke up the next morning, pants around his knees and feeling the delightful ache that accompanied his more vigorous self-sessions, he knew that Puck had gone through his belongings and found the toy Kurt kept tucked in a box under his bed.

Sneaky bastard.

Still, he was happy that Puck and his mother seemed to work out a system of who would visit when. He very carefully didn't think about the two sitting on the porch during the day and talking about his otherworldly sex life, because with Puck? It would have come up eventually, even if he was going for propriety.

**Twenty-five: Ghost, Take Two  
****A/N: I treat the dream-state like a sort of separate plain of existence, where you can feel things and everything seems solid, sort of like Inception. And ghosts, powerful ones, can make themselves completely tangible. It makes things convenient. **

Kurt fell down the stairs. He was sixteen, lingering at the top and listening to his father speak on the phone to his grandma Hummel. He leaned a little too far over and when the brick smashed through the living room window and hit his father's temple, Kurt teetered and fell. His neck snapped and his father died from the head trauma. Burt left after that, but Kurt lingered, observing the different families parade through his home in silence, never letting onto his presence but watching them sense something off in the house and move anyway. It got lonely, but Kurt had the animals to keep him company.

But that was before the Puckerman's moved in. They were new to Lima, though why anyone would put themselves through that torture willingly Kurt didn't know, and had a fair amount of wealth saved up from the alimony and child welfare payments Ruth Puckerman got from her useless ex-husband. They were happy, and Kurt made sure to stay very, very clear of her sons bedroom. Especially when he had a friend over.

He would've been happy to admire from afar, with no chance of confrontation, but that was ruined. He jumped when Ruth accidentally dropped a plate in the kitchen and lost control of himself. He'd been watching Noah (he refused to call the boy Puck) in the living room showing Sarah some stretches they did in football, and Sarah was the one who caught him. She tugged on her brothers sleeve and asked who that person in the armchair was. Noah was up in a second, grabbing the vase off the low coffee table and holding it ready as a weapon, ignoring the water that sloshed down his arms.

Kurt panicked and it took him until after Noah had seen him to disappear from view. He ran upstairs on silent feet when Noah moved closer, listening to the disgruntled proclamation that followed him and Ruth's worried enquiry. That night Noah sat on his bed and spoke.

"Look, I don't know who you are, or what you want, but you kinda freaked out my little sister. She says she's not scared, but she hasn't used her nightlight in a year now and she's back on it because of you." Noah paused, scanning his bedroom for any sign of Kurt, who was sitting on the floor tucked into the corner. He'd been there for the last half an hour, ever since Noah had finished changing for bed. "I'm not saying you're actually bad, or trying to offend you, but her imagination is running away from her. If you could maybe... I dunno, talk to her? Or me, and let me talk to her for you? I have no idea how this works. I've never seen a ghost before."

Kurt sat still for a minute, contemplating the pros and cons of revealing himself. Finally, he replied.

"I haven't either." Noah jumped and looked around again, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from. Kurt closed his eyes and focused on letting himself be seen. Noah stood and slowly walked over, pausing half way.

"You aren't gonna, like, eat me or anything, right?" he asked warily. Kurt laughed, waving away Noah's affronted expression.

"No, I'm not. I don't think I could even if I tried. I'd just go through you."

"Oh." Noah's eyebrows furrowed in that adorable way that meant he was thinking about a problem. "So, can you like, move objects and stuff?"

Kurt nodded and hoisted himself onto his feet, grabbing one of the books that Noah would never admit to reading in his life to any of his school friends and holding it out for the bigger boy to take. "I can interact fine with inanimate items, but I can never seem to fully achieve complete physical contact with living flesh. I've tried with animals here and there. The next door neighbours dog, stray cats, the squirrels roaming about, one memorable occurrence with a goldfish. Poor little girl never was the same after that."

Kurt and Noah held nightly conversations after that, bonding over the accidental torture of small animals and occasionally including Sarah, when she worked up the courage to look at Kurt without making that odd little high pitched squeal that Noah said meant she was being unnecessarily shy. "She's getting a crush on you," he said one day with a grin after Sarah ran out of the room blushing horribly. "She did this to a teacher of hers once. It was kinda awkward." Noah even stopped bringing his booty calls around, too focused on Kurt. Every night, it was Kurt, Kurt, _Kurt_.

It progressed to the point where they had conversations in Noah's dreams. And Noah noticed that Kurt, sitting across from him in a quaint English cafe, looking much more... solid than usual. And Noah, being Noah, brought it up. Bluntly. After reaching over the table and smacking Kurt's shoulder, drawing a sharp yelp.

"Dude, you're hard!"

Kurt froze, staring wide eyed and speechless. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're not, like, translucent anymore."

"You can use translucent in a sentence but not opaque. Wonderful." Kurt smiled wryly at Noah's offended look. "Joking Noah, I know best of all just how smart you are." Noah relaxed into his seat again and once more began to practically vibrate excitement.

"You know what this means, right?" Noah asked, standing up and walking around the table. Kurt laughed and shook his head.

"What does this mean?" he asked, leaning toward the other boy and resting his chin and his hand. Noah grinned back and swooped down, planting a kiss on Kurt's lips. Kurt squeaked and jerked away, hand flying to his lips. "W-what was that for?"

"Seriously?" Noah asked, one eyebrow crawling upward. "Dude, we've been flirting constantly for months now. I haven't brought anyone home, and I've been completely exclusive. Now that we know there's a way to actually do something, we can totally do it." Seeing the panicked expression Kurt had, Noah took pity. "Okay, so you really didn't know that we're as close to dating as we could get, being on... separate plains of existence, or whatever it was. Shit."

"Dating?" Kurt choked, staring up at Noah. "What?"

"The looks, the smiles, the flirty words, there would've been little touches too if I could've worked it- you're really that oblivious? You were totally receptive too."

"Dating? I've never dated anyone in my life, and that was really bad wording, but still! And that- that was my first-" Kurt looked lost, bottom lip trembling. Noah sighed and knelt beside him, grabbing the hand that had moved to press against thin lips.

"I'm sorry, I should've thought to talk about it first instead of going off all willy-nilly. I- what?"

Kurt's shoulders shook, and mildly hysterical laughter escaped. "Willy-nilly? Since when do you say that?"

"Since my Gran kicked my ass for swearing in front of ladies. She's the original bad ass man," Noah said defensively. Then, a grin stole across his lips. "So, Kurt Hummel, will you do me the honour of being my amazing, otherworldly boyfriend?" Kurt laughed. And laughed, and laughed, until Noah began to think that maybe he was being made fun of. "Um..."

"You- are ridiculous. Yes, I think we can try for... being boyfriends."

"Awesome."

A/N: And then Puck grew old and died, joining Kurt in haunting the house he'd bought and reverting back to his sixteen year old self. Surprise sex is easier when you can do it anytime instead of just at night. Good times.


	21. Unicorn I and II

**Twenty-one: Unicorn  
A/N: **Artistic license; I don't think Unicorns actually take the wound into themselves, but it's kind of cool that way.

He just wanted to help. The girl was bleeding, he was just going to make it stop, to heal her. Vacant blue eyes stared at him out of a rapidly paling face. Her blonde hair spread about her head, stained red and Kurt's heart twisted at the thought of leaving her there to die. Another girl, darker than the other, rocked back and forth not five feet away, sobbing and yelling, pleading for Brittany not to go.

No, Kurt couldn't leave them.

He was able to heal her, touching the tip of his horn to the gaping wound in her abdomen and letting the magic flow from him into her. The lesion knitted itself back together and Kurt felt a brief shock of agony rip through him, silver blood spotting the ground before his own abilities stitched the skin together. The girl would be left with nothing but a hazy memory. Kurt would be left with a long jagged scar across his belly. He didn't mind.

But really, he had only been helping.

Despite what people must have thought about his kind, they knew what humans did to them. Select few chose to remain hidden from human eyes, but for most unicorns the instinctive need assist, to take them from harm, was too strong to be ignored. He wasn't stupid enough to think that it might never happen to him either; humans were unstable creatures, after all. Dangerous.

It still surprised him when they swarmed out of the bushes like insects, throwing ropes over his thrashing body and securing him to the ground. To be fair, the darker girl tried to help when she came to her senses, but they threw her away, knocking her out with a quick blow to the temple. And by then it was too late anyway. One man was sawing off his horn with a serrated blade, ignoring his frantic whinnying while the others withdrew their own knives and methodically placed cuts over his body, draining as much blood as possible into stoppered decanters.

Kurt wondered hazily if they would feed his liver to an ailing person like the humans in Noah's stories did. His mate was well travelled and during the season they enjoyed swapping stories of the going-ons in their territories. Unlike Kurt, Puck lived in a heavy traffic area so his tales were far more interesting than Kurt's forest fables.

As they dragged the knife across his neck, he hoped Noah was safe. Then, everything was black.

**Thirty-one: Unicorn, Take Two  
****A/N: **Okay, so originally this was the very last drabble, and it was written because the first one was depressing and I keep killing/hurting Kurt (it's only because I love him, honest). I needed to give them a happy ending (in all the ways). Enjoy~

Puck found out about the attack through the grapevine. He knew the area, knew it almost as intimately as he knew his own, but he refused to believe until he saw proof with his own eyes. That proof came three months later, during the mating season when they were supposed to meet half way between their territories before continuing back to Puck's. When Kurt didn't show on time (he was punctual to a fault and chewed Puck out for being late) Puck got worried. When he didn't show after a day, Puck had accepted the rumours as truths. He survived a year, drifting through routine and wandering about in the open, much less discreet than usual, almost hoping to meet the same fate as Kurt.

When he didn't, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He really had no idea where their kind went after death, or it their was a communal heaven or something as some humans believed, or if they even really had souls, but he would take his chances.

The magic only took a day to work.

Puck stumbled into the nearest village, wearing only a pair of baggy trousers he'd found years ago and kept despite Kurt's obvious distaste (actually, in spite; Puck did so love to tease him) and found his way to a mirror to observe the change. He didn't look overly different from the humanoid form that his kind sometimes assumed, lacking the long ears, tail, and horn, but even still, he barely recognized himself. The aura of magic, the heat in his blood, was gone, leaving him shivering. He was human, and he would die quickly, for better or for worse through sickness or old age.

Anything was better than suffering immortality without his mate.

It took another three years of joyless living before the sickness caught him. He laid, body wasting away, victim of a plague as many others were. He last a week, dragging himself into the woods, to die in his true home. The creatures there gave him a wide berth, sensing danger, smelling the illness on him.

Puck died with a smile on his face.

When he woke again, it was to hands stroking his cheek. He was still in the forest, and for a moment he thought it had all been a dream, that he had somehow managed to sink so deep into depression that he had hallucinated everything. But then he saw those pale, shifting eyes and he knew. Kurt's ears flicked up and a wide smile spread over his face. Puck grinned back and grabbed him, pulling Kurt down on top of him and revelling in the overwhelming sense of home that swept through him.

"I've missed you," he whispered, nuzzling Kurt's neck and touching everywhere his hands could reach. Kurt kissed his ear.

"I never left you." He pulled back and smiled teasingly. His horn was a nub, filed smooth from where the hunters had taken it and wow would that ever make things easier for them. "I have to say though Noah, I like you better as yourself."

"What, the human thing doesn't do it for ya? And here I was thinking we could try something new."

"Well, the need for creativity during sex will be lessened considerably," Kurt replied, toying with the nipple ring Puck had gotten one night while drunk, tugging the metal ring and listening to the groan. Puck grabbed Kurt's hips and rolled them.

"Babe, you read my mind every time."


	22. Hippogriff

**Twenty-two: **Hippogriff  
**A/N: There's Mpreg in this one (technically). I mean, it's an egg.**  
**A/N 2: Kurt's top half is a Blue Jay, bottom half Snow Leopard. I had a very specific picture for him in mind, but couldn't find it. Bugger.  
A/N 3: So... Sorry about the wait guys! I was only supposed to be away for a day, and that turned into four. By accident. I was hanging out with famiy. **

It was a well known fact, in their time, that griffons hated horses, any form of them ranging from regular wild horses to the rare kelpie that they came across. Should they happen to cross paths, most equines would end up torn to shreds and either left for the scavengers or eaten just for the hell of it.

It was the reason that hippogriffs were so rare.

It stood true, too. When Kurt first met Puck, his first instinct was to rear back and attack. He wasn't clear on why, exactly, but he did. Puck still had the clean scars across his chest where Kurt had clawed him. Really, it wasn't his fault that he followed his instinct, but Puck chose to lord it over him every time they fought (which was often). And to think, at first Kurt was going to just leave, never see Puck again, but the persistent bastard had to stalk him until Kurt was caught, bathing in a form as humanoid as he could manage (which, like Puck, was only half; bloody wings, tail, and ears stuck no matter how hard he tried).

It took a long (very long) courtship before Kurt consented to a tentative relationship. Three months later (they hadn't killed each other yet!) and Kurt was fertilized during a particularly intense Heat, not long after Kurt and Puck began experimenting with sex.

It was less widely known that most griffons were hermaphroditic. There was one case where a female couple both laid eggs on the same day not long after their heat.

Puck spent the first week after Kurt had laid the egg freaking out until Kurt punched him and stated that they were magic, so why was it so bloody hard to believe this could happen? Honestly. Soon after that was the arduous task off meeting the respective families and lugging their developing agate encased offspring along with them. Puck almost got mauled by Burt, but after the initial tension, Puck and Finn got along swimmingly, quickly putting their heads together to formulate pranks to play on Dave and Blaine, two of Kurt's past hopefuls. Ruth and Sarah, after a short time, were completely taken by Kurt, who managed not to freak out in the first minute.

He learned that after the heart pounding burst of adrenaline was past he quite easily got along with the other centaurs. Maybe it was just Puck who continuously pissed him off (years later, he was positive it was just Puck).

After two months of keeping the egg warm in shifts and sleeping with it pressing against both their abdomens, it hatched.

Their daughter was one of only ten living hippogriffs in the world (most griffons couldn't stay their instincts long enough to couple with a horse).

As she grew, Kurt delighted in taking Beth flying, soaring in wide circles around her and playing air tag, teaching her how to land safely and ensuring that she didn't tire her grandfather out too much or bite Finn's ears too sharply. After a year he taught her how to assume a humanoid form similar to his. Her legs remained like Puck's, a dark grey hide spotted with rings of black, but she retained her ears and there were blue feathers woven naturally into her curly brown hair. Kurt watched as they ran together, often including Sarah, Finn and Kurt while Burt, Carole, and Ruth sat chatting and watching them. Kurt would trail behind and nip at Beth's side when her awkward, knobby legs couldn't keep up.

He found that child of two notoriously stubborn creatures was equally, if not more, obstinate as her parents. And don't get him started on how Puck went on and on about having another after only a month with Beth. After three sleepless nights where he was the only one getting up for feedings, Kurt still wasn't convinced.

Even still, he wouldn't have his family any other way.


	23. Hobbit

**Twenty-three: Hobbit  
****A/N: Someone asked for it. That's my excuse.**

Blaine Anderson was average. That is, he was average in height, build, and even in his clothing choice. He was average in that he much preferred the comforts of his own home to the entertainments of others and his hair was curly and brown like any other Hobbit's, with a matching thatch on each foot. He forewent shoes, not needing them, and enjoyed all six of his daily meals, even if his portions were perhaps a mite smaller than everyone else.

But the way that he differed from others of his was his propensity for being 'doltishly audacious,' to borrow a phrase from his fellows.

And maybe he was, but as he boldly approached the long legged elf that was part of a passing band, all he felt was braw, sure that he would kindly invite the boy to take lodgings at his own home. Dinner would be delicious; he was quite a good cook, if he did say so himself, and the midsummer night would be chilly with the passing storm. Perhaps the traveller could be convinced to share heat. If that lead to something else, well...

He certainly wouldn't object.

He got so far as an introduction before the burly warrior Kurt (as he'd found out) wandered with intruded. One darkly tanned calloused hand slipped around Kurt's thin waist and pulled him close, hazel eyes narrowing.

"Something you need stranger?" He asked, ignoring Kurt's eye rolls in favour of intimidating a person barely over a meter tall. Blaine laughed nervously and backed away, hands held before him in a placating manner, assuring there was nothing. He looked back a safe distance away and saw possessive hands griping blue clad hips.


	24. Angels and Demons

**Twenty-four: Demons and Angels  
****A/N: So, this is part of something bigger that I'm trying to write. But this scene's been nagging at me to write it, so I did. This Kurt is a darker, jaded version of himself, FYI. Tell me what you think!**

Puck didn't know how things went wrong so quickly. Already, ten men had been marked by Kurt alone, another five by Santana as well as seven women, and four on top of that by Quinn, who used a much more psychological approach to her claiming. He knew, subconsciously, that all these impending deaths were his fault, that he'd thrown off their game and Kurt had been spited by that. Fuck if he wanted to acknowledge that or have it eating away at his conscience.

But Lauren was being bullied, what was he supposed to do, leave her? Even if she was a major bad ass who didn't actually need him to save the day, it still felt nice to have someone stand up for you occasionally, so he did. Sure, he didn't have to walk arm-in-arm with her down the hall after, but the expression on Kurt's face (jealousy burning through a blank mask) was far too powerful a reassurance that Kurt actually had feelings for Puck to do anything about it.

But he really didn't have to kiss her in the hallway, in plain view, when he knew Kurt would be passing. Rachel tore him a new one for that, saying that angels weren't supposed to convert their targets with those methods, that they were base and used by demons. All Puck could concentrate on was the look of dark rage that swept over Kurt's face at the end of the hall and the wave of heat that made the air muggy and uncomfortable.

Next thing he knew their truce was off and around the school boys with Kurt's elegant mark began popping up, and Puck knew exactly how Kurt had claimed them. And it pissed him off. The thought of Kurt and some _boy_, together, kept him up at night. He knew first hand what Kurt's human body looked like, knew it intimately, and he thoroughly considered it his. In all of their history together, neither of them had ever used sex as a tool for conversion. They focused their hormones on each other as often as possible, including a few memorable times between jobs (grabbing Kurt's thick, curling horns from behind, his own feathery black wings twitching with each thrust, Kurt's leathery white wings folded awkwardly to keep out of the way, his tail curling around Puck's thigh and rubbing his balls). Puck had never thought of Kurt with another dude, had never had to think of it, because they had a good thing going.

This had to be his karmic retribution. He tried to make Kurt jealous and the little fuck had flipped that on its head so hard he was dizzy.

The last straw was when he walked into the locker room early for football and caught sight of Kurt blowing Langenthal unashamedly, blue eyes immediately locking onto him. Puck, practically vibrating with anger, silently stormed out of the room and stalked to his truck. Fighting to get his phone out of his pocket he opened a new message and pressed the buttons harder than necessary as he typed.

_'Mine. Twnty min. Dun b l8t.'_

There was no reply. Puck didn't know if he should be relieved or not.

By the time he'd driven back to his house and stomped moodily up to his bedroom, ten minutes had passed. After downing a 2L jug of water, another two went by. A quick shower brought it eighteen minutes and he sat on his bed, making a futile attempt at meditation.

It didn't work, and by the time twenty-one minutes had crawled by he was beginning to get antsy. Just before he could take another action (something, anything to stop the fidgeting), he heard a vehicle pull up the drive and the front door open. The second Kurt appeared in his doorway, decked out in his Cheerio uniform with a smug smirk on his swollen lips, Puck pounced and shoved the demon against the hallway wall.

Blunt teeth attacked the smooth pale skin of Kurt's neck, listening to the sharp yell of pain with savage glee. He grabbed a handful of brown hair and forced Kurt onto his knees, red bleeding into his vision as he rage finally took hold. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection, thrusting his hips against Kurt's face.

"The FUCK did you think you were doing, huh?" he demanded, forcing his dick into Kurt's mouth. Puck watched him gag and, where he would usually ease up, grabbed the back of Kurt's head and pushed deeper. "Fucking all those guys, like a little slut. I've seen the bruises, the hickey's, and that limp you strut around with every other day, don't think I haven't. You get off on it, huh? Wanna get manhandled and smacked around like some- Ah FUCK!"

Puck stumbled back, aghast at the split skin on his cock. "You bit me, you fucking BIT me-"

"Just who do you think you are Puckerman?" Kurt asked, voice low and dangerous as he spoke and raspy from the rough treatment. Slowly he stood, dark red seeping into the bright blue pupils of the eyes fixed on Puck. "Every time we fuck, I allow the controlled violence, the spanking and all of your screwed up kinks, because it's you. But this- this is going much too far." Kurt advanced a step, a slow heat simmering in the hall. "You think that I like being treated like a common whore? That I want to come away from sex with bruises, or scratches, or a chunk taken out of me from your biting?"

Puck backed up, swallowing nervously when his back hit the wall. He moved to defend himself, to say anything. Kurt interrupted him.

"Just because I'm from hell, because I'm a demon, everyone automatically assumes I'm evil. That I must love pain, like some twisted masochist. Well guess what, you stupid, self-centred bastard. Maybe I want a romantic night. Maybe, just maybe, I want for someone to not assume about me, to let me actually take control of things for once. Tell me, in all the times we've had sex, have you ever once let me top?" Puck mentally mapped out all of their rendezvous, trying to think of if he'd let Kurt in and coming up with nothing. "No, you haven't. And neither have any of those humans. Well guess what; I'm sick of it. After this, when I get who I came here for, I'm leaving and you will never see me again. On a mission, or away from it."

Kurt turned briskly on his heel. Tears had began to stream from his eyes halfway through his tirade, evaporating off his cheeks with a hiss as they hit the superheated flesh. Puck stood still for another minute, shell shocked at the emotional vomit he was trying to sift through. The implications of Kurt's anger hit him at once. The jealousy, the petty revenge -on both their parts-, the crying, the speech, and-

Fuck, Puck thought desperately, he had really screwed up this time. He just hoped like hell he'd be able to fix it. Anything, if he could wipe that look off of Kurt's face.


	25. Mage, Cyclops, Minotaur

**Twenty-six: Mage, Cyclops, Minotaur  
****A/N: This is pretty much heavily inspired by Dragon Age: Origins. Because I was playing it when I wrote these.  
****A/N 2: Cross dressing! Oh joy of joys! :D**

The thing about being a cyclops was that everyone had all these funny ideas about how you were supposed to look. More than once he'd had someone come up to him, ask what happened to his left eye, and scoff when he told them it was a birth defect and he didn't have one. It was like that for everyone in his family. And it most certainly did not affect his ability to fight, thank you very much.

Yeah, that whole eye-takes-up-your-entire-forehead thing? Complete bullshit. He still had his nose in the right spot, and he could swing a sword just as well as the half-bull idiot stumbling around could. So he had to work a little harder to correct, so what? Didn't make him any worse at bringing in all those damn apostate Magi who seemed to enjoy running away from the Chantry and the Circle of Magi.

Oh yes, be a Templar! Travel to exotic places and see new things with every chase! It'll be a grand existence. Well, no one ever mentioned the vow of celibacy you had to take, the one that was bloody well killing him!

Puck was still grumbling at the multitude of injustices when he and Finn stalked into a pub, intent on a drink and a good nights sleep before heading out the next morning in search of that bastard apostate who continuously evaded them and all the Templar's sent out before them. People were staring, but then, Finn drew odd looks where ever he went. It was a downside to his top half being a bull. They dropped down onto the uncomfortable wooden stools lining the bar and ordered their respective drinks. Puck ignored the shatter of the wine bottle the bartender had been holding before Finn spoke and looked around.

He meets bright blue eyes through the gloom of the pub and finds himself unable to resist. He's barely twenty, after all, and he hasn't had a chance to satisfy his hormones for two years. He's going crazy and this girl, all soft curves and red lips, is too tempting to resist. She stands up and saunters into the back hall, glancing over her shoulder, brushing back long curly hair and crooking a single finger. He stands up, already half hard behind the chainmail and offers Finn a lame excuse about going to the lavatory. He meets her in the hall and when they stumble back to the room she must have rented, he accidentally tugs off the wig. Startled eyes stare at him and Puck stares back. After a second he reaches around her and unties the laces of her dress, watching the corset fall to the floor and her curves disappear (well, mostly, he still has some killer hips...). After another few seconds of staring he shrugs and decides, fuck it, he's always been an ass man and this didn't technically go against his vows of celibacy.

Stripping off the skimpy dress and easing the other boy (couldn't be more than sixteen, which should probably make Puck feel like a skeezball but _damn_) onto the bed, he quietly asked for a name. When the answer was whispered just as softly, Puck froze, listening to the apostates name and wondering if he should stop and apprehend him now. Then Kurt rolled his hips and began sucking an enthusiastic hickey onto his neck, and Puck decided it could wait until morning.

He kicked himself when he woke to an empty bed and a note that said nothing but, 'Thanks.'


	26. Werewolf

**Twenty-seven: Werewolf  
****A/N: Based loosely off a concept from a Sherlock fic I read on AO3.**

Puck didn't know why he needed a bodyguard. Seriously, Finn needed one more than he did and he was only of lower nobility (granted, he usually needed saving from himself and his clumsy tendencies). Puck was crowned prince of a kingdom left to him by his deadbeat father and he still had less 'accidents' than Finn (he was working on the prejudice that ran rampant in the higher class), although being a widow trying to care for her only son had discredited Mrs. Hudson, so they probably couldn't afford a wolf for Finn. He'd have to work on that too...

However, all that and his mother still insisted on bringing one in. And the minute he saw his proposed guard, he laughed. The mutt was so small that Puck, a human, could probably take him no problem. He said as much to his mother, who 'tsk'ed and shook her head.

"Noah, I thought you'd learned from your mistakes. Remember the last time you underestimated someone?" Ruth asked, disappointment clear in her voice. "Kurt came highly recommended as a guard. He's well trained."

"Is he toilet trained as well?" Puck enquired sarcastically, tossing the thick black collar away and dropping onto one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs in the stables for the workers. The wolf kneeling before him showed no reaction to the taunt but Sue, Kurt's handler, narrowed her eyes.

"Look here Puckerman, this is the best fighter and protector I have. You're lucky I even considered putting him in charge of your sorry ass," Sue said, blunt as forceful as always. "If you don't take him, someone else will, and if they're going after you, they won't hesitate to utilize him."

Puck raised an unamused eyebrow. He and Sue engaged in a short staring contest until, not looking away from her son, Sue commanded Ruth leave the room. Desperate for Puck to see reason, she acquiesced to the blonde, motioning for the guards to close the massive double doors behind her.

"Listen closely Puckerman, because I'll only say this once; your mohawk disgusts me. It's right up there with Will Schuester's product-caked curls, only yours doesn't have the small trolls I hesitate to kill when I take a blow torch to his head. Keeping that in mind, I won't waver in the act of shaving your monstrosity off. And if you don't take sweet Porcelain here," Sue ran an affectionate hand over Kurt's soft hair, "that nightmare will become your reality. Do you have an understanding?"

Puck scoffed, levering himself off his chair and into Sue's face. "Look lady, I'm bigger than my hair. Your threat? Totally doesn't scare me. You'll have to try harder than that."

Sue kept her blank stare on Puck just long enough for him to get nervous before she said, "he gives good blow jobs."

"Deal," Puck answered immediately. Sue motioned for Kurt to fetch the collar and handed it over to Puck. The soft leather fit well and the thick silver ring was attached to a matching leash. Sue held out her hand and Puck shook it before handing over the bag of gold Ruth had set aside for their purchase. As she was walking away, Sue paused and looked back, a smirk lingering on her lips.

"By the way mohawk, he's never been near a phallus other than his own in his life. I would never allow such a blatant distraction, but have fun teaching him."

Kurt blushed a bright red while Puck gaped, watching Sue walk away, smugly tossing the bag of coins into the air.


	27. Nixie

**Twenty-eight: Nixie  
****A/N: I have eight and ¼ pages written in my notebook for this. This is an extremely condensed version.**

It was hot. It had been all summer, with very little snow over the winter, so it was looking to be an extremely dry season. Not dry enough for farmers to suffer an overall huge loss, with their stores of water on hand, but for him it was nearing lethal.

Dry, cracked lips parted painfully, scabbed over cuts pulling and tearing open. Blood leaked down his chin, sluggish and thick. Warm, murky water lapped at his hair, offering no relief to his dehydrating form. Saliva dried in his mouth and all he knew was the scorching heat of the sun as it beat down on him.

Noah was eight when he found Kurt, more than half dead laying in a small pool of dense muddy water. He had run off to explore the surrounding forest after his mother fell asleep, carrying a water bottle like she always told him to. He had burst through the underbrush, desperately trying to find his way back to the small clearing they had chosen as a picnic area. It took minimal convincing on Kurt's part to have the boy pour it into his mouth.

Noah always told him that the transformation was beautiful. Kurt thought that the willingness of children to help was probably more so.

Noah's family lived in a small house with a small pond in the backyard that Noah poured the water from the bottle into. Kurt made it his domain and strove to keep out anything that would cause harm to his family (yes, they were his) watched as Sarah was born and Noah grew, helping him with his many childhood problems, first crushes and petty arguments with Finn that resulted in two days of silence on either side before one decided to walk into the others home and pick up where they left off.

When Noah was sixteen and he confessed a minor crush on Finn's girlfriend ("It's a case of wanting what you can't have Noah. And you can't have her."), Kurt felt a surge of possessiveness over his boy. But Noah was a hormone-driven teenager, liable to make and break relationships every which way. Kurt remembered when he went through that phase and male companionship became the centre of his universe. Sure, it was a time he recalled rather fondly, if not with some guilt at the many gullible men he'd seduced unwittingly into his pond and their... sadly deceased females, but he didn't think that drowning the competition was an acceptable method of courtship anymore.

At any rate, he would wait, bide his time until Noah matured enough to accept his advances. There were still traces of latent homophobia left by his father that, try as he might, Kurt couldn't quite erase.

But now none of that mattered. Kurt had to convince Noah that sleeping with Quinn had BAD IDEA stamped across it in big, bold capital letters and making sure he kept his sex life out of Kurt's pool.


	28. Merfolk

**Twenty-nine: Merfolk  
****A/N: Look on Wikipedia for them. I want to draw them how I picture them, but we'll have to see.  
****A/N 2: And I might have to uber expand on this. I have interesting ideas...  
****Brittany: Scribbled Angelfish, Kurt: King damoiselle, Finn: Golden stripe soapfish, Sam: Striated frogfish, Puck: Black branded cat shark**

It was all Brittany's fault. She was the one who insisted on venturing so far out. Kurt was completely against the idea in the first place, and he should have had more of a spine and not allowed her to go at all. He'd heard stories, of young Merfolk daring each other to go out, over the shelf and vanishing without a word. Their parents said they were eaten by the sharks that resided below, using the disappearances and turning them into horror stories to keep young fish from getting lost in the vast area of dark water. Others whispered to each other, of humans using spears attached to long metal ropes that they used to pierce a Mer's body and drag them above surface, and barbaric sharks with pointed teeth that would grab you and pull you below, a school swarming you and eating your flesh.

Kurt honestly didn't know what scared him more, and now here he was, floating tentatively into the area just above the dark water after Brittany, watching the bright yellow tail fins and that dark blue tail catch the sunlight filtering under the surface. She paused and turned back to him, waving him forward.

"Kurt, come on! We have to hurry or someone else is going to get it before we do!" Kurt shuddered and drew in a deep breath, gills flexing. Brittany was ten feet beyond the lip of the shelf and nothing bad had happened yet. He resolved himself and swam forward, keeping a vigilant eye on the stillness below. Brittany smiled and grabbed his hand, increasing their speed as they swam towards the shiny ball that was suspended in the water twenty feet away. As he was looking around, something thin and sharp caught his nose and a small cut appeared with an acute sting. Looking around wildly, and seeing nothing, Kurt timidly decided that it was a stray piece of debris.

Brittany had pulled ahead during his dilemma and touched the object, watching it sway gently, transfixed.

"It's like rainbows and lollipops," she said, pushing the white ball again. Kurt thought about that sentence for a second and asked,

"Britt, what's a lollipop?" She looked confused, one hand wrapped protectively around the ball, and shrugged.

"I thought you knew."

Kurt's reply was interrupted by another sudden pain, this time at the tip of his fin. He only had a second to try to figure things out before the metal net closed around both of them. Brittany automatically curled into a ball, fist still clenching the bauble, as Kurt was thrown roughly against her. Kurt thrashed, yelling while Brittany whispered nonsense to herself as a distraction, still wrapped around herself. They broke the surface with a slash and were dropped onto the deck of a ship. Before either could acclimate to the sudden change needles jabbed their skin and the world went black.

Kurt woke up slowly, head heavy from the drug. His tail felt dry and itchy, dark pink scales beginning to flake. His upper body was submerged under water though and he groggily pushed himself up, curling his tail until it was underwater as well. His eyes peaked over the metal lip of the container he was in and five feet away Brittany was in the same situation. Her arm hung over the edge, fingers closed in a loose fist around the bauble. He passed out again.

The next time he regained consciousness was when they were transferring him and Brittany. There were two large tanks dominating the area they were in, and their captors were putting them into separate ones. Panic slammed into him and he struggled, lashing out with his tail and slapping one of them on the chest, pushing him over the edge of the tank. Kurt didn't hear the crunch of a breaking neck, too consumed with his fight. One of the other men got fed and knocked him on the side of the head, disorienting him before dropping him into the water. When his vision cleared again he was laying on the soft sand covering the metal floor and another Mer was leaning over him.

"Dude, are you okay? I've never seen anyone freak out like that. Karofsky must be pissed at the bruises." The boy was blond and his tail was covered in...

Kurt reached forward to touch the spinules covering the other boys tail before he caught himself, blushing at his lack of manners. "Sorry! I just- I've never seen someone with a tail like that..."

"Yeah, and he's capable of eating fish up to twice his length too," another voice pitched in from the shadows. "Just look at that mouth."

"Ha, ha Puck, shut it."

"Whatever frogface, just don't eat the new kid before he has a chance to properly settle in. And I do mean that in all ways possible," Puck jibed, swimming into sight. Kurt stared for a minute, lingering wide eyed on the defined musculature before the hair distracted him.

"Like you're one to talk! Besides, you scared the last guy so bad he had a heart attack and had to be moved to another aquarium. You don't even eat more than a mouthful at a time or you puke."

"Guys, come on. Sam, chill dude. Puck, stop talking." Another Mer swam into view, his dark brown tail showing six solid white lines. He held out his hand. "My name's Finn," he said amicably. "Ignore these two or they won't stop. They're worse than a couple of preteen girls when they bicker."

Puck scoffed and rolled his eyes. He looked directly at Kurt for the first time and raised an intrigued eyebrow, eyes crawling slowly up and down his body. A smirk lingered on full lips and Kurt got the distinct impression he was about to be eaten.


	29. Sphynx

**Thirty: Sphinx  
****A/N: I went with Egyptian Sphinx more so than Greek, due to their benevolent nature and the fact that the head is male, not female.  
A/N 2: Okay everybody! This is the last one! I meant to upload it two days ago, and I thought I did and then I left for the weekend. BUT! Tell me what you though, and if you have any requests for a creature/sequel. I'm already working on a couple things, but I'd really like to hear what you thought of it. **

Seriously. All he had to do was get the fucking milk. No epic quest for some stupid tome that supposedly held the answer to all the fucking questions in the world, no battling deadly creatures in his effort to get there, and certainly no answering stupid riddles! He hadn't signed up for any of it, so why the hell was he doing it?

Oh yeah, because the fucker held a knife to his sisters throat and threatened his family. Now he remembered. When he got back, that bastard was going to pay, dearly, and Puck would sell the thrice damned book to the highest bidder.

Ragged and exhausted after travelling a week nearly non-stop to his destination, Puck stopped short at the sight of a massive maze. "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, adjusting his sword and ignoring the grumble of his stomach. The maze, as it turned out, had been marked by his knightly predecessors, and was therefore relatively easy to navigate, minus one or two unfortunate deviations. When he reached the massive, towering double doors with no resistance, he thought it was almost too easy.

He was right, of course.

"Now, now, it's rude to trespass into someones home without permission. Surely you know that." Puck groaned and dropped himself against the stone wall, letting his head slump forward.

"For fuck sakes, just let this be over already."

"Ah, you're one of those are you," a soft voice said, directly in front of him. Gentle fingers raised his chin to look into pale eyes.

"One of what?" Puck asked as the boy backed away, wings ruffling in the slight breeze that swept through the passages. Puck caught sight of a tawny tail flicking behind him.

"One of Ryerson's unwilling champions. Probably took your family hostage while the able bodied young man sets off to do his dirty work. The book is what you seek, correct?"

Puck stared, gaping slightly. "How the hell did you know that?"

"He's done it before. I always turned them away, hoping they would be able to reason with him, but the man is hell bent on believing I hold the secret to the world, written in ink on Papyrus. I never heard back from any of them, but I had hoped that Ryerson saw reason and let them be, only to find himself another to convince me. I understand now that that is not the probable outcome." Bright eyes stared at him while he spoke, hands clasped behind his back. "My name is Kurt, and I'll give you what you desire on one condition."

"Oh? And what's that?" Puck demanded.

"Answer my riddles precisely and I'll give you the powerless book that will save your families lives," Kurt replied.

"And just how many will that be?"

Kurt smiled. "As many as it takes to convince me."

"Wh-?"

"Which creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?"

"The fuck are you on? There's no creature I've heard of that does that."

"Is that your final answer? Think carefully on this. The times of day are metaphors, keep that in mind," Kurt said, perching himself on a large rock.

Puck thought. What could the times of day be metaphors for? The process of evolution? But he'd still never heard of a creature that walked only on three legs at their current state. What else...

A memory came into his mind, six months after his sister Sarah was born and she started crawling. His mother had screamed for Nana to, "come see, oh look how precious she is!", running out of the room while Puck played with his carved, homemade block toys. Nana and mom came back in as quickly as Nana Connie could hobble, her cane clicking against the stone floor. Her hip problem had starting getting so bad it was a necessity.

"Okay, I understand now. Humans do that. They walk on all fours as babies, walk on two in the prime of their lives, and use a cane when they get older." Noah watched a happy smile spread on Kurt's lips.

"Correct!"

"You sound surprised," Puck muttered, rolling his eyes. Kurt shook his head, one clawed hand waving.

"No, just happy. You'd be surprised how many people don't know the answer." Kurt motioned to another flat rock position across from his and Puck took a seat. "Give me food and I will live. Give me water, and I will die. What am I?"

"Fire," Puck answered immediately, remembering the sudden storm that had taken him by surprise and killed the blaze he'd worked so hard collecting wood for. Pissed him off.

"The man who invented it does not want it. The man who bought it does not need it. The man who needs it does not know it. What am I?"

Puck thought for a minute, searching his head for a clue. Another memory came to mind, of the funerl home across from his house. The coffin maker was selling one of his wares to a stone faced woman and a cart with a sheet covered body was awaiting its final resting place. It was to be a private ceremony, performed not twenty minutes after the purchase, Puck recalled. "A coffin."

Kurt nodded. "I can run but not walk. Wherever I go, thought follows close behind. What am I?"

Sarah came to mind. She had gotten a cold not too long ago now and her nose turned into a leaking snot faucet. Not to mention she constantly complained about how it hurt too much to think...

"A nose. Are we almost done here? I have a lunatic to beat down."

"One more for the road. You're doing so well, after all," Kurt said. "I am black and white and red all over. What am I?"

"Uhhh..." Puck dug deep, came up with nothing, and said the first thing that sprung to mind. "Sunburned penguin."

Kurt laughed and nodded. "Yes, that is one of the correct solutions. The others were an embarassed skunk, a painted zabra, or a newspaper. I'll collect your prize and let you be on your way. I've had enough entertainment to last me a while now."

"Entertainment?" Puck asked, wary about the answer.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "You're cute when you think." Then he ducked into a small doorway nearly hidden by an outcrop of rock and Puck almost kicked himself for thinking such a tiny whatever-he-actually-is could push those behemoths open without some serious assistance.

By the time Kurt returned with the book Puck had thought himself through so many circles he was beginning to feel dizzy. About his family, about the route back and what shortcuts he could take, about just how hard he should start hitting Ryerson when he saw him, and oddly enough, just how hot Kurt was...

When Puck saw what he had to carry back, his jaw dropped and he cursed. "There's no way I'll be able to carry that back with me and not have it take a fuckton of time."

"I know. That's why I'm lending you something in good confidence that you'll bring it back." Before Puck could question, Kurt reached around the outcrop again and coaxed something forward. Puck could've kissed him when the chestnut mare walked into sight.

Infact, Puck did. He even slipped in a little tongue.

"Oh I'll definitely be back," he promised, leaving Kurt with a bright red blush and a linger tingle on his lips.


End file.
